#i came maybe two minutes later and then six more times over the next few hours
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against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part four
alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader
warnings: explicit sexual content
(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]
word count: 4.3k
It didn’t stop after the first and it sure didn’t stop after the third, either.
Depending on her schedule, you saw Alexia once or twice at most a week; most of the time it was on the night after a Barcelona match and by the next morning, she’d be gone before you even woke up. But you’d noticed her visits had been increasing in frequency lately, not to mention that sometimes she’d still be in bed when you awakened. The first time you found her still asleep beside you, you were dumbfounded, thinking it was a dream image of her in front of you. And what amazed you even further was that it kept happening.
It wasn’t an unpleasant development. In fact, it was something you gratefully welcomed. And it wasn’t just that, either. Sometimes when Alexia came over, you didn’t even have sex you just… talked: about her training and her health, her teammates’ shenanigans–and hers, of course–her family and bits of her personal life. Meanwhile you told her about places you explored and showed her photos of where you’d been. Then she’d tell you about places you could check out, food to try, and even went ahead and promised to take you to some of the places herself when she had the opportunity.
These times were rare, sure, but you found yourself enjoying her company more and more to the point you noticed yourself craving for it–found yourself missing her presence despite your constant back-and-forth messages. And still you didn’t ask where this was going for fear of ruining whatever the two of you had; you were content and you just simply wanted to watch this unfold as it was. And anyway, it wasn’t like you weren’t used to fleeting relationships, situationships–whatever you’d like to call it–because who was to say this wouldn’t end up like your previous dalliances–ending before it could ever truly begin? Despite you hoping otherwise, a large part of you already convinced yourself that this wouldn’t be anything different: just another highlight to your getaway vacation that you’d look fondly back on a few years down the line.
You had a month left in Barcelona, maybe an additional few weeks depending on the client. What could possibly go wrong?
———
A knock took your attention from your work to the door. You looked at the time–it was early evening on a Saturday and you weren’t expecting anyone. Perhaps you just imagined it? But then it came again not a minute later. You were reluctant to open it seeing as it was already dark but a ping from your phone that signalled a message from Alexia asking if you were home had you flying to the door.
Upon opening it, you found Alexia there with Nala resting in the crook of her arm, phone in hand, and a paper bag in the other.
“Took you long enough.” Alexia said playfully, all cool and confident but then her brows quirked upwards almost sheepishly as she said in a more tamed tone, “is this a bad time? I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
You smiled at her consideration before you ushered her in. “No, no! It’s fine, really! Come on in. Sorry, I just wasn’t comfortable opening the door when it’s dark without knowing who it was.”
“Ah, it’s my bad. I should’ve let you know before dropping by.” She bent down and let Nala loose before she untied her shoes and left them by the door. Nala bounded to the living charged with curiosity, nose to the ground, tail wagging as she carefully examined the new space.
Alexia regarded her dog with an amused expression before she looked back at you. “I meant to bring this over after the game tomorrow but I saw the lights as I drove past so… here I am, I guess.”
You reassured her again as you locked the door behind her and you watched as she made her way to the kitchen. As you passed through the archway to the kitchen room, Alexia already situated herself by the counter taking out glass canisters from the paper bag she brought. When she took the lids off, a delicious aroma instantly filled the air, enticing your senses.
“What do you have there?” You asked as you leaned on the opposite side of the counter.
Alexia smiled at the eagerness in your tone and pride shone in her eyes as she spoke, “only the best fideuà and esqueixada in the world. Made special by my mother, of course.”
You peered into the containers and the sight made your mouth water instantly. As if it remembered that you hadn’t had any food yet, your stomach grumbled obnoxiously. Alexia definitely heard it because she fixed you with an amused smile and at that, your cheeks warmed so you tried to divert her attention. “You know what would put this all together?”
“What?”
“Wine or champagne. Wait–are you allowed to drink?”
“I’m allowed since I’m still not qualified to play yet.” Her visage became somber for a moment–it fleeted so quickly you almost didn’t catch it–before the light in them returned again. “If you have it, white wine is the best complement for this.”
You hummed and tapped your chin, turning to make your way to the cellar. “I’ll have a look. I’m sure Derek has some wine stored in here somewhere.”
You’d mumbled the last part but it seemed Alexia’d caught it because she asked, “who’s Derek?”
Something odd in her tone stopped you and made you look back at her. Her face was unreadable, almost too neutral. She didn’t think Derek was your boyfriend, did she?
“Oh, Derek’s my brother. He hasn’t been here for a while but he owns this house.”
“Ah, I see,” Alexia cleared her throat, looking away and you could just see a hint of redness in her cheeks. “Well, I’ll lay out the plates. I suppose they’re just in...?”
“The bottom drawer to your right and the utensils are in the upper one.” You instructed as you continued towards the cellar.
“Oh, yeah, I see,” came Alexia’s muffled response.
When you returned with the bottle of white wine, you found that Alexia managed to locate the glasswares by herself and were drying them with a tea towel. There was only one set of plate and utensils laid out though so you fixed her with a confused look.
“You’re not going to eat?”
Alexia shook her head. “I already had my fill with my family earlier. I’ll take the drink, though.”
“That’s nice that you visited your family today. How are they?” You sat at one of the high chairs by the counter, popped the wine open and poured each of you a glass. You noticed that Alexia’d heated up the fideuà for you from the steam that rose from its container which strengthened its aroma and made it all the more enticing. Alexia remained opposite you but she was close enough with her leaning forward on her elbows, her glass of wine in hand.
She sipped her wine and told you they were well, described little snippets of what’s been happening in her family life. She even told you about a prank she recently played on her sister, one that nearly made you choke on your wine.
You listened as she talked, liking the way her brows quirked and her shoulders move as she spoke, how each gesture became more pronounced the more passionate or interested she was on a subject. You asked questions and engaged with the conversation every now and again as you savoured the rich taste of the pasta and the freshness of the salad. You’d never had anything like it and you told her as much. In response, she said she’d give the compliment to her mother when she saw her next which made your cheeks warm up again. Once you finished, you tidied up and though you insisted she didn’t have to, Alexia helped you wash up anyway.
Afterwards, the both of you ended up in the living room with your glasses of wine. She gestured at your laptop on the couch with her glass.
“Work?”
“Yeah. Just double checking if I missed anything important and preparing for the match tomorrow.” You sat on the couch and put the laptop on your lap. Alexia opted to sit on the carpet, legs stretched and crossed, back leaned back against the couch, her head just beside your legs as Nala settled by her side.
She turned her head, looking up at you. “Can I see?”
You turned your laptop so she could see better. You flicked through the photos you were sorting through, explaining to her every now and then the thought process behind each shot. On some photos, Alexia asked you to pause so she could soak them in.
“These are great. You have a great eye.” Alexia complimented with an appraising nod as you got to the end. You thanked her as you pulled back. Then a question came to mind.
“Do you ever get used to it? The cameras, I mean.”
A pause.
“I’m not and I don’t think I ever will. I’m more comfortable with it now but if it’s possible to avoid, I’d do it. I know it’s a part of football and god knows how much more exposure women’s football needs,” Alexia released a heavy sigh, “but sometimes it just gets too much, you know? I mean, I really should be grateful, right? To have gotten to this point? But the media side of it is… not without its own set of miseries.”
There was an inflection in her tone upon her admittance–guilt. You gently carded your fingers through her hair, Alexia leaned into your touch in response, and you replied just as softly, “it must’ve been difficult. It still is and for you, especially. And I don’t know if anyone’s told you lately but you have to know: you’ve given so much of yourself already. It’s not a sin to want a little peace, Alexia, and it doesn’t make you ungrateful for wanting it, it just makes you human.”
Alexia took a deep breathe before she rested her temple against your knee. Then you heard her whisper, “thank you.”
A silence fell upon the both of you after that but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. She remained that way for the majority of the night, head against your knee as she watched a game of football on the TV.
By the time you finished up your work, it was already late evening and Alexia’d dozed off beside you. You felt bad as you gently woke her up and groggy hazel eyes found yours when you did. The sight made your heart ache from how much Alexia looked younger and more at peace this way, and you told her to wash up so she could stay the night.
And she did.
Now, your cheek felt warm against her chest despite the slight dampness of her borrowed shirt from her hair. Her skin smelt faintly of the soap you were using and with her arm around your waist, you fell asleep content, lulled to a deep slumber by the steady rhythm of her heart.
———
“Hey, please don’t wear that, it’s dirty,” came Alexia’s reprimand from behind you.
You glanced at her reflection in the mirror: Alexia was propped up on the pillows against the headboard, an arm behind her head, nude except for the bundle of sheets that covered one of her thighs, the marks you’d left on her neck and chest last night and this morning generously displayed for you to behold.
She was nothing short of glorious, you thought, looking relaxed and content like this.
You turned your attention back to your own reflection: Alexia’s Barcelona jersey draped over your smaller frame and fell just partway down your bare thighs. It felt comfortable against your skin and the fact that it smelt just like Alexia made it feel all the more special.
When you looked at her reflection again, you found her with an affectionate smile, eyes lidded and brows inflected slightly upwards, and suddenly the attention warmed your cheeks.
“But you only wore it for a shoot, right?”
“I mean, yeah, but you know what I mean.”
You hummed, “do you need it?”
“No, I have spares,” she replied before she raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“That means I have time to wash it before I give it back since you insists that it’s dirty.” You said drily as you turned away from the mirror and padded your way to the bed, crawling on the sheets on your knees once you got there.
As soon as you got close enough, Alexia’s hands were immediately on you, guiding you to straddle her lap before she embraced you fully, resting her chin between the valley of your breasts as she looked up at you. You carded your fingers through her hair to see those fair, hazel eyes that never failed to make you shiver.
“I didn’t say you have to hurry. Plus… I kinda like seeing my number on you.” And then she was kissing your neck and you felt one of her hand creeping its way down to cup your ass. You gasped when you felt the heat of her fingers brushing against your core and you buried your own in her hair as she traced a path from your throat to your ear with her tongue, nipping at your lobe when she got there.
“Fuck… Alexia…” You moaned, “you’re insatiable.”
She kissed your shoulder and then she whispered, “only for you.”
———
Something flashed from the corner of your eye followed immediately by a string of whispered curses and a familiar whirring sound. You put your thumb over the line you were just reading so you wouldn’t lose your place before you looked over your bare shoulder to the corner of the room you knew Alexia was who you found, as expected, holding one of your Polaroid cameras.
She was only wearing a pair of grey sweats which left her torso bare and–like all the time you saw her nude–you couldn’t help but appreciate the soft curves of her breasts and the carved muscles of her stomach. When she met your gaze, she smiled almost sheepishly at you not dissimilar to a child being caught stealing cookies from the jar.
You raised a playful eyebrow at her but instead of answering, she placed her eye over the viewfinder, aimed the camera at you, then pressed the shutter again.
The film came out with a whir and Alexia immediately tucked it into the pocket of her sweats. She then began to make her way towards you and at every other step, she’d stop to take a photo of you, carefully manoeuvring the camera to get the right angle as she did so. It was an endearing sight, really, and it was one that filled your chest full of warmth.
Eventually, she ended up on you, turning you over on your back as she straddled your waist, leaving you at the mercy of Alexia and her camera. From this position, you couldn’t help but feel extremely vulnerable and exposed not because of your bareness, but because you knew with the way your chest surged with warmth from how Alexia gazed down at you with a satisfied grin, the dimple on her cheek showing as her tongue peeked out between her teeth at the corner of her mouth, seemingly focused on getting the right shot, that this was a woman who had the power to completely and utterly unravel you.
As a photographer, you were well acquainted with how cameras had the capacity to capture the essence of a moment–to display in raw details the emotions of its subject and freeze them in time, readying them for the dissection and scrutiny of the viewer. You wondered then what Alexia would see written in the shadow, the light, and the colours in the photos she just took of you once she looked at them, and the thought both elated and frightened you.
Alexia brushed away hair from your temple but as she was about to pull away, you put yours atop of hers and turned your cheek into her palm, looking directly at her behind the camera. You heard her breath catch and then she stuttered out a breath, and the flash barely registered in your mind because you were too focused on the strength and the warmth of Alexia’s hand as you pressed butterfly kisses on the inside of her palm.
The next thing you knew, the camera was abandoned completely and you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out from your throat when you finally felt Alexia’s lips on yours.
———
Alexia sat on one of the high chairs in the kitchen room, hair damp, a game of football on the mounted TV that was left forgotten in place of… something that you couldn’t quite see from this distance. Alexia’s shoulders were hunched over in concentration and you didn’t have the heart to interrupt whatever she was doing so you leaned on the archway, content with just observing her do her work.
“Are you just gonna stand there or would you care to join me?” You rolled your eyes and you didn’t fight the smile that graced your lips. So much for being sneaky–the fact that Alexia was an accomplished footballer who had crazy spatial awareness occasionally slipped your mind.
“Okay, Gwen Stacy, calm down.” Alexia looked over her shoulder then and stuck her tongue out at you, grinning. “How did you even know I was here?”
“Your reflection on the microwave.” She gestured to it with her chin and sure enough from this angle you were instantly visible especially with the white shirt you had on. The dark glossy surface almost made you look like a ghost.
Standing on your toes, you draped yourself over her broad back, arms wrapping loosely around her neck as you peered down. “So, what are we working on?”
“This.”
A bracelet made of a dark-blue and red string that looped into itself with a singular, small gold diamond-shaped charm right in the middle, a vertical bar at the two corner points of the long edge of the diamond, dangled between Alexia’s fingers. She took your right hand and placed it in your palm so you could look at it: the bracelet was simple but it’s delicate nature made it all the more beautiful and elegant.
“Oh, wow, this is so pretty.”
“It’s for you.” At that you looked at her, half-afraid that she’d feel the way your heart raced at her words against her back.
You were so busy trying to find the right thing to say that you didn’t realise that she took the bracelet back until you felt the warmth of her fingers on your palm as she turned your hand over. You watched her as she wrapped it around your wrist, securing the tie. You turned your right wrist over and looked at the delicate bracelet, and something in your heart soared at the small gift. The fact that Alexia made it herself made it all the more special to you.
“Thank you, Alexia. I love it.”
“You’re welcome.”
That night while you were sufficiently warm nestled by Alexia’s side, naked except for the sheets, your head on her chest, a realisation hit you.
“It represents FC Barcelona, isn’t it?”
Alexia hummed in answer, the rumble from the sound a pleasant sensation on your cheek. Then she held your wrist in the space between her thumb and index finger, the width of her palm supporting your hand as she turned your hand just so so the gold of the diamond could catch the light.
“And what else?”
At that, you looked at the bracelet intently. The two bars: one and one–Alexia’s number. So she really was serious when she said she liked seeing her number on you.
You let out a small laugh, then you nuzzled her jaw as you spoke, “you little sneak.”
———
Minding her bad knee, you flipped the both of you over with a strength that even surprised yourself and with how Alexia’s brows raised high, you supposed it took her off guard, too. You settled your weight on her stomach and you bit your lip when you felt her abs tense against your core, and the desire in you blazed into a raging inferno that threatened to burn you inside out.
She grabbed your ass in both hands with a firm grip, making you gasp when her hold made you grind against her stomach, her eyes smouldering as she looked up at you.
That look was your last straw; you couldn’t stop fighting your desire anymore so you let it swallow you whole. You fell forward, bracing your weight against your elbows as you craned your neck to kiss Alexia, rough and desperate, her lower lip between your teeth. The action rewarded you with a low moan, a delicious sound that shot heat straight down to your core.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Alexia gasped out between your relentless kisses.
“I like being on top,” was your simple answer whispered hotly against her ear, nipping gently at the soft skin there–teasing.
Then it was your turn to gasp.
Her fingers dug delightfully into your flesh, kneading your ass roughly before easing them apart with equal force. The harsh treatment caught you by surprise and the effect of it even more unexpected as you immediately melted against her, moaning her name helplessly against the crook of her neck.
She knew just how to make a mess of you.
“Hmm, do you?” She asked coyly and then proceeded in a deliciously low voice that oozed seduction, smugness, and sex. “Too bad I’m still in control.”
“Fuck.” Your body answered for you in a full-body shiver. Her words turned you on to the brink of falling and you found no purchase as you slipped from the ledge.
It should be embarrassing how you could come without Alexia even fucking you, and it should scare you that she had this much power over your body but in this moment, when her hands were everywhere but your pussy and her filthy words were whispered hotly in your ear, you could care less. So you fell apart, shaking and weak, as you sank on top of Alexia’s firm and soft body, her name barely coherent from the sobs that came out of your lips. Euphoria lit every nerve in your body as you came, the fabric of your underwear latched deliciously on your pussy like a second skin and you were sure that you’d made a mess on Alexia’s bare stomach.
You only realised Alexia had stopped her teasing ministrations until you heard her thick voice through the haze of the afterglow which you barely caught.
“You came.”
It wasn’t a question, really, but you let out a small affirmative moan because what else could you do? You were mush–the intensity of your orgasm caught you off guard and left you floundering that no thoughts formed in your mind, just pure bliss and ecstacy. But as the veil of euphoria began to lift, embarrassment bled into the edges of your consciousness and with it the instinct to apologise. The words were poised at the tip of your tongue when Alexia moaned.
“Fuck, that’s so hot,” she breathed out and when you found the strength to lift your head to look at her, her eyes were lidded, pupils blown so wide they were almost all black.
And then she was pulling you in for a kiss, and then the wet heat of her tongue traced the edge of your ear, and she was nipping at your jaw while she dragged her palms from your ass to the side of your ribs. Your skin burnt at her touch and you could do nothing but surrender, to moan and whimper as your heat blazed anew despite having just been swept away.
“But this time, you’re going to come with my fingers in you.”
She didn’t even let the words sink in. Instead she wasted no time to slip her hand between your bodies and to push aside the fabric of your ruined underwear. Usually, Alexia liked to tease you and ease her fingers in you slowly as she sought as much reaction from you as she could, but the slick she found there must had been enough to satisfy her because she pushed two fingers in as soon as she found you. The thickness of her fingers slid in easily and you nearly screamed her name from the pleasure.
She was relentless in her endeavour to make her words true with the way she gripped your hip steady with her free hand so you didn’t stray too far from her touch when you moved to meet her thrusts, the pace at which she worked her fingers in you left you lightheaded the same way her teeth on your neck worked to drive you insane.
“Alexia, Alexia, Alexia–” You chanted her name like a holy litany, burying your face into her hair that was now slightly damp with sweat and breathed her in: her scent of sun and freshly cut grass, of faint wintergreen, and an essence that was uniquely hers. The moment left you full with something heavy and warm, something that spoke of and hoped for forever, and clarity washed over you: this wasn’t like one of your previous dalliances anymore because you wanted more with her.
The realisation hit you hard, the gravity of it left your mind in a momentary stasis that when you came back to yourself, the shock of your orgasm knocked the breath from your lungs and you felt yourself being pulled by the tide. So strong was it that you could do nothing but pray the flood wouldn’t take you–that Alexia wouldn’t let you drown.
#ap11#not proofread#mine#my writing#a/n: i think this is the halfway point guys for this one#ik alexia mentioned somewhere that she has dinner with her family on fridays but for this fic's sake i made it to saturdays lol#also i have a backlog of ideas i wanna start writing but i really wanna finish this one first#just a side note this part is 4.3k#so on aggregate this is officially the longest fanfic id written so far.#hope you guys like this and would love to know what you think about the story so far#just a reminder: im tweaking minor details as i go so the most accurate copy of all the parts will be on my ao3 (@thesunisatangerine)#apologies for any grammar and spelling mistakes ill work on em later#woso x reader#alexia putellas x reader
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Lips of an Angel (Part 2)
Azriel x Reader
Summary: Part 2 to Lips of an Angel per the request of many. The OG request came from @eddiesbixch696 : This randomly came to me because the song came on the radio but an absolute angst fest of an Azriel fic based on the song Lips of Angel by Hinder. The whole “my girl is in the next room but sometimes I wish she was you” lyric as he watches Elain. Ugh I love breaking my own heart sometimes 😭
Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 3,512
[Part 1]
_________________________________________
This winter is one of the most bitter he’s experienced in Velaris. Or maybe it’s just him, his feelings as of late, the cold and empty cavern that is his heart without you, his thoughts wandering towards the female he’d left behind for the one who he’d thought would be his end all be all.
He turned out to be so fucking wrong about Elain.
She’s at dinner with the rest of the Inner Circle but Azriel had chosen not to go. She’d begged him, tugged on his arm and gave him that doe-eyed look that normally would have him giving in to any of her demands. Now it just makes him grimace.
He could hardly think about eating with the guilty thoughts swirling through his mind, consuming him completely.
What is wrong with him? He wanted Elain, and he had got it, at the price of hurting you. Azriel hadn’t seen a glimpse of you or heard a whisper about you in years. He couldn’t help but wonder if you were even still in town, how you’re doing now.
He’s been distancing himself as of late, and if the middle Archeron sister has any worries about it, she didn’t voice them to him. It’s hard to be around her when all he does is compare everything she does to you. They way she hugs him with her arms around his neck, staring up into his eyes when you would wrap your arms around his middle and burrow your head into the crook of his neck. The way that she goes on and on, needing to fill any and all silence with stories and anecdotes, whereas with you, the two of you could just enjoy each other’s company, no words needed.
He’d hardly been coming to bed, unable to sleep because of the constant running thoughts of his ex. The drink he usually had was more like a bottle, but did nothing to aid his insomnia. Flying didn’t seem to help either, nor sparring. It’s like all his favorite things had been tainted with the thought of you, in his arms gliding over the city or the smile on your face when you’d landed your first strike on him with the practice sword after six months of giving it your all.
Azriel doubted you’d kept up on your training after he’d ended things.
When he was able to get a few minutes of shut eye it was when he was away and could hold the necklace you’d left behind in his hand. His only reminder that you were ever really his to begin with.
It was the only thing he’d had left of you. You must’ve dropped it behind the dresser some time before you’d cleared the home of your things and he’d found it when Elain had wanted to move the furniture around in his room. Something about a more peaceful mind, if the bed was slid to the wall that didn’t face the door. He’d caught sight of the gleaming metal and tucked it away before she noticed.
He’d tried to regift it. First to Gwyn, because he still wanted to see it, gleaming, wrapped around another pretty neck. He’d gone so far as to give it to Clotho before promptly asking for it back thirty minutes later with crimson cheeks and a heavy heart.
He’d even thought about giving it to Elain for a special occasion. Surely she wouldn’t even know that it used to be yours. He’d imagined mouthing at the pendant hanging between your breasts every time you wore it. He hadn’t had the gall to give it to Elain.
So Azriel had hid it in a secret drawer of his desk after that, promptly forgetting about it because he’d been so enthralled with the breath of fresh air that was Elain.
He doesn't know what he’s doing in the city. Usually he opts for a long flight or time off in a different court, hoping that the warm sun of Summer would burn his feelings away or the fresh breezes of Autumn would clear his head.
But he’s here, shrunk down into his coat because he hadn’t thought to put a hat on, the bitter winds kissing his cheeks and neck annoyingly, and it reminds him of you. Of course it does, because he can’t seem to stop thinking about you, the way you’d always press your freezing fingers up under his shirt for warmth on a cold day.
Azriel’s hair keeps getting blown into his eyes and as much as he tries to shove it back it only slaps right back. He needs to get it cut but doesn’t even have the energy to do that, with everything going on in his mind lately.
He blinks harshly at the tendrils poking his eyes. He stumbles slightly, a strand stuck, and he’s trying to claw at it while grumbling, not quite watching where he’s going because he assumes that everyone will give him a wide berth like they always do–
He runs straight into someone, stumbling back as he frees the piece of hair from his eye. He blinks, an apology already rolling off the tip of his tongue when he realizes exactly who stands before him–
He’d forgotten how perfect you were.
An angel in the flesh.
“Azriel,” you breathe, stunned, and it makes his heart fracture in his chest.
You’re not alone like he wished you would be when he’d thought about all of the times this could happen, should he be so lucky. There’s a child with you, immediately tucking behind your leg at his appearance.
“(Y/N)...It’s really good to hear your voice,” he forces around the thickness in his throat. Saying my name goes unsaid.
Azriel can’t stop looking down at the little boy, hiding behind his mother’s leg. You’ve got a protective hand curled around his thick knit hat, the other clasping a to-go mug of what he scents as hot cocoa from the best bakery in Velaris. The one they used to frequent together, though he always remembered that you were more of a warm cider kind of female. Oh how you’ve changed.
It’s clear the babe is nervous, by the way he keeps tugging on the bottom of your coat. You don’t hesitate, hauling the little boy into your arms even with a hand full.
Azriel’s breath catches and his heart hammers in his chest because there’s tiny wings poking out of the child's fluffy coat.
“This is Wren,” you introduce awkwardly, shifting on your feet anxiously.
He looks closer now, noting how he’s around three or four, from what he can tell, and his heart aches because surely there is only one explanation for this. There's a burning in his chest, even though he knows he shouldn’t feel this way, that he’d moved on even quicker.
Those eyes…
Azriel’s brows furrow, his mouth parting but no words come out. His mind is whirling because Wren’s eyes are a mirror of his own and the longer he looks the more he can see himself in the child. The natural downturn of his mouth, almost apathetic in appearance, his wide eyes, lids lowered a touch over his perfectly round irises - the most stoic child he’s ever seen.
His eyes are glued to the small boy. He has your nose, your ruddy cheeks that nearly give every emotion you’re feeling away. Your cheeks are red right now, in fact. He’s sure that if he tugged the hat off of the child’s head all he’d see is inky black hair.
“Is he–”
There’s no way he’s not.
You’re quick to intervene, pressing your wrist over the boy's ear and leaning his head into your shoulder, blocking out your response from his tiny ears. “Yes, he is.”
Everything freezes. The snow fluttering down pauses its tracks, the wind is no longer a nuisance brushing the back of his neck with cold fingers, all of the sounds of the bustling city are drowned out by the ringing in his ears.
His hand twitches, lifting as if to touch the child, make sure he’s real, maybe pull that hat off after all. He knows that you’re telling the truth, you were never one to lie about anything, would rather suffer the consequences than talk your way out of it.
But this…
You turn, shifting away from the hand that’s reaching out.
Azriel flinches, arm falling back to his side. He physically cannot look anywhere else besides his son, who seems perfectly content in your arms, head shoved where your neck meets your shoulder. His gloved fingers clutch tightly to your jacket but his wide hazel eyes stay locked on male in front of him.
A punch in the gut is all he feels as he nearly collapses under the child’s gaze. He can feel his heart beating in his chest, the pulse that has his neck throbbing. There’s a dull ache inside of him, a numb feeling humming around his hollow chest where he wishes your mating bond would lie. Countless nights he’d prayed to the Mother to tether the two of you together - each night had without answer.
He never prays for Elain.
“He doesn’t know,” you admit, and it burns your throat like acid. You hadn’t had the guts to tell Wren that his father had broken your heart into a million pieces a few nights before you found out that you were pregnant.
You hadn’t had the heart to tell Azriel either.
Hadn’t thought it necessary, as he was perfectly happy with Elain while you were slowly putting yourself back together for the babe growing inside of you. You were determined not to let Azriel affect your life from then on, and it had been hard, but you’d finally gotten that feeling shoved so deep down inside of you you could pretend that you were okay, for Wren.
You hadn’t been expecting to run into Azriel ever again, and now that he’s standing in front of you, that part of your chest has been blown wide open.
He nearly looks the same as he did that night years ago. Hair disheveled from the winds, never thinking to bring a hat with him when his mind was awry, like he didn’t deserve to be warm. His eyes had dark rings around them much like they do now, the hazel color shroud by shadows, like the ones wrapped around his legs, the same way Wren had cuddled into yours before you’d picked him up.
His lips are chapped from the cold and even from beneath his thick coat you can tell that he hasn’t been eating well, sleeping either. Something awful must be going on.
He’d seemed so much happier with Elain that day he left.
You don’t have the heart to wonder what must have happened.
But as much as you want to ask, it’s no longer your place. You shouldn’t care about the male before you, eyes looking so painfully similar to your sons, it was hard not to think about Azriel every time you looked at Wren, even with the wings to match.
He nods once, finally breaking contact with the mini version of himself. He swallows and it hurts, there’s a lump of emotion caught in his throat because he hadn’t been prepared to run into you out and about in the city after years of not seeing you, but now he has a child. A child that doesn’t know him from the next male walking down the street.
He’s not sure what to say, what he can say. I’m sorry doesn’t seem good enough. I still love you won’t have an effect on the female who surely doesn’t believe that could be true.
He startles when a figure draws closer. He had been so caught up in what was going on before him that he hadn’t noticed the approaching male or heard his shadows repeating the information to him.
The male stops next to you, catching your attention with a hand on your lower back. He immediately senses something wrong when you look up at him with a forced smile. His mouth turns into a frown, emerald gaze taking in the shadowsinger standing across from you, immediately recognizing him.
“Azriel,” and there’s your fucking perfect mouth speaking his name. His heart still leaps in his chest when you do, and he wonders how he ever could’ve been so stupid as to choose Elain over you. “This is Malik.”
The man nods at him, eyes sparking with an emotion that’s gone before even Azriel can pick it up, so he responds the same, tilting his head but offering no words to the male who’s stepped up beside you.
He watches the male beside you with his spymaster’s eye. The one that’s kissed your cheek and has a hand caressing your back, when it should be him who’s doing that. It should be him who Wren is reaching out to.
“Daddy,” Wren smiles, and Azriel’s heart twists in his chest, splits down the center at the utter confidence in his son’s voice, claiming this male to be his father.
Malik is…handsome, Azriel supposes, in his own way.
Azriel studies him and finds that the male his son is calling his father looks quite similar to him. Dark hair shoved under a matching knit cap, thick lashes dusted with snow, fluttering over his piercing green eyes. Instead of lines around his mouth from centuries of frowning he has them by his eyes, like he’s the happiest male on the planet.
If he’s truly with (Y/N), he is.
“Would you mind giving us a minute, Malik?” you request gently, passing the babe over. The male gives you a soft smile that makes the fire in Azriel’s stomach grow. He watches Malik lean down to press a chaste kiss on your cheek, and Azriel doesn’t miss the way that you lean into it before flinching back, turning your guilty gaze on him like he’d just caught you cheating.
No, it had been the other way around, hadn’t it?
“Mommy?” Wren questions with a glance towards Azriel. He stretches his wings out behind him and Azriel’s eyes prick with emotion, seeing wings so little.
Wren is already so much like his father, with his dark hair and pouty frown, gleaming eyes and controlled temper. But those tiny wings hurt you that much more.
A not so subtle reminder to Azriel of all of the flaws he passed down to his son. Never a babe with Elain, though. The children he used to imagine all had your eyes and smile, your calming aura and beautiful laugh. He’d never thought his son would be a spitting image of him, with his hair, his eyes, his nose, his wings.
“I’ll be right there baby,” you reassure, passing your cup of cocoa to Malik. Azriel watches the brush of your fingers against his and his throat clogs with emotion. The skin of his hand is flawless, smooth and stretching across muscle and bone, nothing like his, marred with callouses and scars.
“It was nice to meet you, Azriel,” Malik says in that low voice, one that Azriel would feel like is completely genuine if he weren’t kissing his (Y/N) and holding his son.
“Likewise,” he answers stiffly because he doesn’t want to upset you. He’d done enough of that.
Wren doesn’t say anything as they depart, keeping his big hazel eyes on Azriels. They widen slightly when his gaze brushes over his wings but he’s not as impressed as Azriel would’ve thought, and he doesn’t know why the response doesn’t sit well with him.
“I know you must have a lot of questions,” you begin when they’re out of earshot.
“I do.”
“And I know that,” you murmur, squeezing your eyes shut for a breath while you twist your fingers together. You’re nervous. Hadn’t planned on telling him ever, and now that he’s seen Wren up close there’s no denying it now.
Of course you’d thought this day might come, but now, every scenario you’d thought thorough in your head disappears.
“He doesn’t know,” Azriel states again because all of this seems like a dream gone rogue. He wonders if he’s somehow slipped into an unconscious state, a lucid dream perhaps, which didn’t seem unlikely because he hasn’t been sleeping lately.
“No,” you agree, “And I don’t want him to.”
His head snaps up, mouth parted in disbelief. He’s ready to argue, slipping so easily back into the way he was right before he’d ended things, emotional and utterly a wreck.
You speak before any words can escape, “Whatever it is you’re going to say, don’t. You have no say in my son's life. You gave that up when you gave me up.”
“I didn’t even know you were pregnant.”
“Would it have made a difference?”
Azriel stays silent.
Your voice is thick when you respond and he hates that he’s made you feel like this again.
“Exactly.”
He doesn’t even know what to say. There are so many questions racing through his mind he doesn’t even know where to start so he just blurts out the first thought his tongue grabs onto.
“Who’s going to teach him to fly?”
“Rhys said that he would,” you answer, and the flicker of anger that cuts across his eyes tells you that he hadn’t been aware his brother knew he had a child. The muscle in his jaw ticks and his shadows sweep around his feet now, just like they always do when he’s upset. “He’s taking care of us.”
Azriel needs to calm down, he knows he does, but he feels completely blindsided by his own brother right now that he doesn’t know what to do. He’s torn between winnowing right up to the River House to give Rhys a piece of his mind or jumping up into the air to release all of the rage and sadness that’s consumed him tenfold.
He’s taking care of us.
Azriel should be the one taking care of you.
“He knows?” His voice is deathly calm and it sends shivers up your spine.
It’s why Wren didn’t look impressed by his wings. Because he has seen Rhys’ before.
His shadows are whipping around erratically and Malik takes notice, questioning your safety with a single look.
You reassure you’re okay with a nod and he relaxes slightly, letting Wren to the ground when the little boy squirms in his grasp.
Azriel watches how the male places his hands on his son’s shoulders, holding him in place.
“I asked him not to tell you,” you admit wetly, “Begged him, really.”
He’s brewing.
“Don’t,” your voice is stern, not liking how he’s stewing. “Don’t you blame him. It was my choice.”
“And what about my choice?”
Your mouth goes slack, “Your choice in what?”
“This,” he roars because he can’t take it anymore. His shadows flare around him, a wall of darkness sweeping up from the ground to his shoulders.
Wren screams, pushing away from Malik and rushing over to where you’re facing off with Azriel.
“Mommy!”
The utter terror in the little boys voice makes Azriel’s spine straighten and his stomach churn.
Wren’s on him in an instant, little fists shoving and hitting his thighs. It shouldn’t have the slightest effect on him but it does. He’s defending his mother because some strange male has raised his voice at her.
Each point of contact is a stake to his heart. Azriel stands helplessly, watching the little boy go at him until you’re crouching down and pulling him away, Malik pressing behind you with his hands on your arms and a glare in Azriel’s direction.
You look up from where you’re hugging Wren tightly to your chest that’s throbbing painfully, heart racing from something akin to fear, something you’d never felt for Azriel before. There’s tears brimming in your eyes from the sight, from the conversation. He’d never raised his voice at you like this.
This male…you don’t even know who he is anymore.
Your voice shakes when you speak, “You don’t get a choice, Azriel. You lost that a long time ago and you know that.” Your eyes wash over him, up and down. He nearly melts, when venom laces your voice, despite the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “You made that choice.”
“(Y/N),” he reaches out to try and stop as you stand, lifting Wren into your arms again. You shrink away from him.
“I have to go,” you mutter, allowing Malik to usher you and your son away from the stewing Illyrian. You’d always been able to fight for yourself, even without the training. Malik surely knows that, but it still disgusts Azriel how he’s done nothing to defend you.
Azriel turns to look at the babe one last time. He’s stood frozen, head hung and snow falling into the back of his jacket like a fool, watching the love of his life walk away from him again, but this time, he’s the one who’s heartbroken.
#Azriel#azriel x reader#azriel/reader#azriel x you#azriel/you#part 2#azsazz#acotar#acomaf#acowar#acotarxreader#dad!azriel#wren alternate timeline#dad!azriel au#daddyaz#azriel angst
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There’s No Crying In Football
A/n: My first 5+1 fic!
Synopsis: Five times you cried out of immense love and the one time someone else did.
One
“It’s really not that bad. It’s just—”
“I swear if you quote Monty Python again, you’ll be down two fingernails. Let me see it.” You gestured for him to come closer so you could inspect the damage, like you’d suddenly gotten your medical license in the last few hours.
“See? It looked so much worse than it actually is, I’m fine.” Justin tries to reassure you but you were too focused on the tears swimming in your eyes to notice.
Of course in the years you’d been together he had taken hits much worse than this, but for some reason today felt like a gut punch and the tears just continued to flow.
“Come here,” he whispered, running his non-injured hand along your back as you sobbed pitifully into his chest.
“I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I’m crying,” you huff out with a sniffle. He lets out a soft chuckle, telling you not to apologize.
“Would it make you feel better if we just ordered dinner and watch Love is Blind to start off bye-week?”
You nod and tilt your head up to give him a quick peck on the lips.
Two
Two weeks later you were on the couch watching Netflix with Nova at your feet. She’d rarely left your side the last few days which was both sweet and concerning, given the fact that she was usually glued to Justin. You were simply minding your business one minute and the next minute you were crying watching the women argue on Selling Sunset.
“What is wrong with me?” You wondered out loud, trying to get ahold of yourself. Maybe your period was on its way, it usually did make you a little bit more emotional, but usually not emotional enough to cry over petty drama at the Oppenheim Group.
The Clue app on your phone was sure to have the answers you were looking for but when you pulled up the calendar, your heart was beating in your ass.
Your period was six days late.
As fast as you possibly could, you placed an order to be delivered to the house. The last thing you needed right now was to go online and find see headlines saying that Justin Herbert’s wife was spotted at CVS with pregnancy tests in hand. Probably not the best look.
Justin came home an hour later and immediately headed upstairs to look for you.
“Babe?” He knocked. “Since when do you lock the door?” His voice was even but you could tell he was a little perturbed by it.
You wiped your eyes and stood up to let him in.
“What’s going on? Why are you crying? What’s—oh. Are these…” You nodded shakily, your legs suddenly feeling heavy.
“Have you taken them already?”
“No. I was going to but it felt wrong doing this without you. I know you said you wanted to try for a baby but we had a plan and it’s too soon. I mean it’s literally the beginning of the season so that would mean they’d be born around—”
Justin places a warm hand on your shoulder. “Breathe. We’ll figure it out. There’s no one else in the world I want to do this with and yes we had plans but those can change. And if those tests are positive, I’m ready to do this…so long as you are too.”
He let you do your thing and came back in with the timer set on his phone.
Pregnant. All five tests had the same result.
“Well, I guess that explains the crying.” You joked as he kissed you on the side of the head.
“We’re gonna be parents.”
Three
Hosting Thanksgiving at your house while your husband was in the middle of the season had to be top five most stressful things you’ve ever done. Besides the fact that no one but Justin and the two of you had gone through great lengths to keep it that way. You’d secretly ordered all virgin cocktails at the WAGs brunch last week and had been living in Justin’s T-shirts that were the perfect oversized look.
“Can you see anything? Do I look…you know?”
“Pregnant?” He utters with a laugh, “no, you look great. Nothing’s gonna ruin the surprise.”
Your family and the Herberts arrived about an hour later and dinner was served. The thought of having a baby of your own at the table this time next year was both a daunting task and an exciting one.
It was a family tradition to take a group picture at the end of the night so everyone got in front of the camera in their respective poses. You and Justin shared a look just before the flash went off and yelled “everyone say y/n’s pregnant” which silenced the room.
“Wait…are you two being serious? You’re really pregnant?” Holly asks, looking like she’s going to burst with excitement at any moment. She glances back and forth between you and her son, anxiously waiting for a sign of confirmation. Justin simply nodded and both of your moms pulled you in for a hug and immediately let you know that they couldn’t wait to babysit.
After two slices of pumpkin pie, you were ready to call it a night, until you walked into the den and heard Mark talking to Justin.
“I’m so happy for you son. Haven’t seen you this excited since you met her. And I know I don’t even have to tell you this but being a father is going to be one of the biggest and best adventures of your life. You’re going to be great at it. I love you, kiddo. So proud of the man you’ve become.”
“I love you too, dad.”
The crack in his voice may or may not have brought you to tears.
Four
“I have a surprise for you.” Justin beams at you as soon as he spots you walking down the stairs after your nap.
He led you down to sit on the couch and told you to close your eyes.
You ran a hand up and down your bump, a new source of comfort. “Hurry up J, the anticipation is killing me.”
His laugh sent butterflies to your stomach even after all this time. “Okay, you can open your eyes.”
“Are those…baby Air Force Ones? This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” You cried. “They’re so tiny in your big ass hands I can’t take it!”
“I’m glad you like them, I thought they were adorable so I ordered them as soon as I could. And judging by your reaction I’m glad to know you like them too.” He chuckles. “Very surprised you’re not dehydrated at this point. How are you feeling today? Did you have a good nap?”
You could tell the busy schedule of the season was making him feel bad about leaving you on your own the farther along you got in your pregnancy. “Physically I’m fine but emotionally? I feel like I’m in a glass case of emotion.”
You knew he’d like that one. He threw his head back with a small laugh and gave you a celebratory fist bump. “God you are the love of my life. Perfect quote usage.”
You took a bow, stating “thank you, thank you very much.”
“You’re a dork.” He deadpanned, although you both knew he very much loved it.
Five
The final countdown had officially been on since you hit 36 weeks. But with your due date a week away, things were getting very real, very quickly. Luckily for you, Justin was the most prepared person in the world and had been gearing up for this moment since the very beginning it seemed.
“Let’s just go over the list one more time.”
Car seat installed and ready to go? Check.
Clothes for you and him? Check.
Extra phone chargers? Check.
Snacks? Check.
Pillows, birth-plan, toiletries? Check.
Postpartum care products? Check.
He looked so perfect just going over everything again and again, making sure that all of the newborn clothes were washed and there was an ample amount of diapers and wipes and that everything was in order.
“I think you’ve covered all your bases, don’t you think?” You wrapped your arms around his waist and hugged him from the back, feeling his body start to relax into your touch.
“Just wanna make sure we have everything you need. That you have everything you need. I know I can’t control what happens in there and when she’s born but I sure as hell can control this part.” He turned around in your arms and placed a kiss on your forehead and then your lips.
There was truly no better feeling than this, being loved by your best friend. “I was going to wait until she was born to give this to you but, I’m thinking now is the perfect time.” Justin raised his eyebrows when you reached over the back of the bookshelf and pulled out a wrapped book. It was a book telling their baby the story of how he become the beloved king of Bolt Nation. A bright eyed kid from Oregon who grew up cheering for the team that he would eventually lead into battle every week. The same man who’s heart now belonged to a little girl he had yet to meet.
His eyes welled up with tears when he finished the last page. “How did you—when did you even have time to do this?”
“I have my ways. You deserve something special too and now our daughter will know just how special her daddy is, to so many people. But especially to the people in this home. We’re so lucky to have you, Justin. So unbelievably lucky.”
“Although I appreciate you saying that, I’m the lucky one. I love you so much.”
Now it was your turn to wipe your tears. “I love you more. You know I’d do anything for you, like not get on Twitter and tell Emmanuel Acho what I really think of him.”
+1
Exhaustion was all the two of you knew. It was like everyday was a constant cycle of changing diapers, dealing with spit up, or feeding your baby. But you couldn’t be happier. Your husband had of course adjusted seamlessly to fatherhood, celebrating the fact that it was the off-season and he could spend as much time at home as he wanted to. Which was lucky because neither of you had been getting much sleep and he couldn’t imagine playing football while running on fumes.
A high-pitched cry jolted you out of your REM cycle and your feet lead you to your baby’s room without your conscious effort. Reaching in to pick her up immediately had her suckling on your shirt, letting you know exactly what she wanted. She really was the perfect mix between the two of you but her almond-like light green eyes were all Justin.
Once she was done nursing and her diaper was checked, you headed back out of the room, meeting Justin in the hallway.
“What are you doing out of bed?”
He tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes but was pretty sure he’d be tired for the next full calendar year. “I heard you get up and I wanted to make sure you guys were okay. My precious girl is in there.”
“You know I used to be your ‘precious girl’,” you reminded him with an eye roll.
“Yes and you’re still up there, champ. Standing firmly at the number two spot.”
God if that wasn’t the cutest thing you’d ever heard, you would’ve smacked the smirk off his face. “This is the thanks I get for birthing your gigantic baby? You sure know how to make a girl feel special.”
“You are the most special babe. Thanks for giving me a baby.” He grabbed your hand and walked with you back to the room, cuddling you back to sleep.
Two hours later, that familiar sound woke you up again. But this time you weren’t moving.
“You better go Justin, your baby’s crying.”
“Haha very funny,” he mused, standing up to stretch. “I’ll grab her and bring her in here, can’t have my girls fighting over me. And hey, at least you’re not the one crying anymore.”
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Mpreg hc: dream is on a mission to buy every single pregnancy and parenting book available but he gets way too overwhelmed to actually sit down and read them so george helps him make an excel sheet with the important parts of each book and then they read for 20 min together every night
Let's jump on the mpreg train, shall we? Small drabble:
“Dream, you know I love you a whole lot, but this is getting ridiculous.” George stared at the dozens of books stockpiled on their coffee table. He could’ve sworn that there was already a visible dent in the table from where the books have been amassing over the past few weeks, ever since he took that pregnancy test.
“Huh?” Dream asked when he came back from answering the door. Presumably to accept another order of books if the big box in his hands was anything to go by.
“When do you even want to read all of these? You are aware that the baby is going to be here in six months, and I sincerely hope that you did not plan on spending every single second until then reading every book there is about pregnancy and babies.”
Dream visibly paled at that, letting go of the box and starting to pace through the living room. “You are right, fuck. Six months is not enough time to figure out everything I need to know. Maybe I can learn to read faster? Or- or I could start listening to audiobooks while reading, you know, multi-tasking. And maybe the baby will arrive later, giving us some more time, do you think you can hold them in for a bit longer? I am sure-“
“Dream.” George interrupted, getting up from his perch on the couch to stop his spiraling husband. “Sit down with me?”
Dream still seemed restless but after taking a deep breath he followed George to the couch and sat down next to the smaller who was cupping his small baby bump.
“What is this about, honey?”
Tears filled Dream’s eyes at George’s soft voice. “I-” he tried, willing himself to not freak out. This was George, his husband, soulmate, he wouldn’t run away over some insecurities.
“I guess I am scared to mess this up. I feel like I am flying a plane without a license and blindfolded and I am terrified of being a bad Dad, so I guess I just want to know everything there is to know before the baby gets here. But there is so much to learn, and I don’t think I will ever be fully ready for this.”
Gentle hands cupped his cheeks, willing him to look at George who looked at him with eyes so soft they could only be described as lovestruck. A soft kiss was pressed onto the tip of his nose.
“Thank you for telling me. For what it is worth I think you will be the best Dad, simply because you have a heart so big that I know this kid will be the most loved baby to have ever been born. And yes, we will probably mess up but then we will learn and improve. These books can only teach us so much, I fear the rest will just be learning by doing.”
Dream chuckled, softly caressing George’s belly. He couldn’t wait until he could finally feel them.
“If it makes you feel better, let’s make a deal. Let’s math this out.” George proposed. “No more books. Today we look through the ones we already have and find the important parts. We plan for 20 minutes every evening where we read something about pregnancy and babies. Then we can make an Excel sheet and plan what to read in which order and when.”
Dream didn’t think he could love this man any more than he already did if he tried but every day, he proved him wrong. He would never understand how George just got his brain better than he did himself, but it was in situations like this that he would be forever thankful that they had found each other in this world.
“Let’s do it.” He smiled, pressing a kiss to George's forehead and grabbing two books for them to skip through.
#mpreg#dnf#pregnancy#I wrote this on the train and I sincerely hope nobody saw me type this#gognancy#not sure if this is the right tag lol did we already settle on one?#Honelle drabbles
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୨୧ On Purpose Karma x (fem) Reader || Chapter: 04 ୨୧
Prev || 04 Oblivious || Next
— Since the entire student council was present and the library was notably crowded with students who had signed up for the lecture, [Name] entered the library on her own.
She felt guilty, having to ditch her plans with Karma after an unresolved argument they decided to brush over. To make matters worse, she has to sit through a two-hour session and watch Ren shamelessly flirt with every girl in the room. On the brighter side, this ordeal counted towards her volunteer hours.
"You're late. You missed my introductory speech."
"My fault, I'll make up for it by working extra hard!"
She mentally thanked Karma for convincing her take the longer route, saying, "It's not a big deal if you're 10 minutes late... or 30." It was impressive how Gakushuu's speeches managed to put her to sleep every time, missing it was a win in her book.
Koyama called him over, something about a broken printer and an angry librarian.
...aaand she was all alone again. [Name] decided to go check on the group at the back table.
"Oh, [Name] made it—she can help us!" The first year, Chisa blissfully smiled.
"But I wanted Asano to help. [Name] could you please ask him to?" Chisa's friend insisted, clearly not as enthusiastic about the anyone-whose-not- Asano's arrival.
[Name] tried not to let it bother her, being the only girl in the student council came with a lot of pressure.
She’s just as helpful and capable as the rest of the group but no one seems to acknowledge it. Everyone calls them the “Big Five” even though there’s technically six of them as her scores tie with Seo.
"He's busy with Koyama, but maybe later."
The girl groaned and sulked laying her head on the table. Chisa looked apologetic for her friends dramatics. [Name] offered them a polite smile and said, "Let's get through your assignments then."
After half an hour of helping the girls turn in missing work, [Name] decided to take a short break. She left for an empty table in the very corner of the room, the short break turned into a long one when she got distracted texting Karma.
‧₊˚ Message Log ‧₊˚
[Name]: can we talk? im super bored!!
Karma: Whose fault is that?
Karma: should have ditched to be with me the whooleee day
[Name]: ugghhh don't. Can you believe I still have another hour of this
[Name]: anyway what are you doing?
Karma: I bumped into Nagisa on my way back from the library
Karma: now were at Maehara's house with Rio and Fuwa.
[Name]: Rio?? That one beautiful, smart, sweet, blonde girl in your class?
Karma: Sounds like you like her alot.
[Name]: She makes me nervous
Karma: Hey that's how you used to talk about me before we went out
[Name]: I can hear the disappointment through the text lmaoo
‧₊˚ Message End ‧₊˚
"You haven't even been here for an hour and you’re already slacking off on your phone?"
"Gakushuu! Geez you came out of nowhere." [Name] shut her phone off and patted the seat next to her.
To her surprise he slumped down next to her instead of insulting her and walking off, like he usually does.
"Are you feeling alright?"
"I'm exhausted to say the least. This was a stupid idea no one is making progress, well no one but Ren, he managed to pick up quite a few desperate ones today."
"That's not completely true, I helped Chisa and her friend turn their C's to A's. As much as I hate being here it's not useless. Useless was the Bakesale we tried last year where the cupcakes we sold tasted like horse crap. It was funny watching people pretend to love them and hold back the throw up because they came from you."
"Could of stopped at the first half, but thanks, I think. My father said I wasn't being organized enough, that this would be a failure on my half and an embarrassment on his."
"That's a little harsh, you're doing your best and you've done more than anyone else in the council. Ren's been giving out his number more than he's been lecturing, Seo has been in the bathroom for 20 minutes, Teppei has been stuck on the same group this entire time and to be honest Koyama is hard to look at. Im pretty sure I saw the girl he was teaching closing her eyes while he was talking."
The corners of his mouth twitched upwards.
"You're right I'll go yell at them in a few. It's not a big deal though, My father has said much worse."
"To be fair, I haven't exactly kept my promise either. Hard work turned into hiding in a corner to text my b- actually I should get back to work, actions speak louder than words!" [Name] stood up to leave. Asano grabbed her sleeve, it was impulsive and the immediateness of it made it all the more awkward."
"Uh, Asano? Is there something you still need?" She crinkled her eyebrows.
His cheeks became somewhat pink, [Name] thought he couldn’t have been blushing, maybe it was allergies.
“No, just don't get distracted on your phone again."
"Yeah Ive got it!" She waved him off and went back to work,
Gakushuu sat there slightly conflicted with his thoughts and his feelings, He faulted the all nighter he pulled last night, sleep deprivation does negatively impact mind clarity. He decided he should get back to work too.
Meanwhile ☆ ༄
"Let me get this straight, instead of asking me like normal people the class collectively decided to stalk [Name] and I?"
"Pretty much... but I was against it the entire time!" Nagisa replied sheepishly, to his surprise Karma's response was a relaxed nod.
"You're acting weirdly cool about this."
It sent a shiver down his spine, in a weird way Karma was scarier when he didn't react. Not knowing what he's thinking was an uncomfortable feeling.
"It's not a big deal- unless you guys tell people, that's when things will leak."
Fuwa's voice highers a few octaves in concern "What things?!"
"Telling you would ruin the surprise wouldn’t it?”
Maehara, reckless as always chimes in “I wanted to go and see [Name] but I couldn't. We were almost a thing before you stole her ya know?"
Nagisa, being the good friend he is, rushes in to save him "That's not it at all! Isogai told us she rejected him a bunch of times since he's a womanizer!"
"I'm not a womanizer, I'm smooth."
"Smooth is the surface of the floor you'll be on when I knock your sorry ass out."
Maehara quickly moves behind Rio who changes the subject with a flood of questions;
"How long have you been dating? Why would anyone go out with you? Did you scare her into saying yes?"
"I’ll tell you if you buy me soba. Better question is: Why wouldn't someone go out with me? I’m tall, handsome, smart, charismatic… and I have a sick spice collection.”
“Im also all of those things.” Maehara jokes, cautiously this time, using Rio as a human shield.
#AkabaneOnPurpose#karma akabane#karma x reader#assassination classroom x reader#ansatsu kyoushitsu#karma akabane x reader#akabane karma x reader#anzulvr#akabane karma#akabane x reader#karma akabane x you#reader x karma#assassination classroom
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hihi maybe a fic where reader is just an absolute menace and badass like her mother neytiri!! everyone in the clan is prob trying to become mates with her but she doesnt like it at all
summary: [y/n] sully was independent, strong, scary, clearly the daughter of neytiri. but, her impeccable game constantly reminds everyone who her father was.
a/n: two in one day ?? what ?? crazy. anyway, hopefully you enjoy. she’s kinda a cutie in this, like okay yes go boss. also i cannot stop making random original characters that are not at all canon to atwow, but you know what, it is what it is. feedback, reblogs, and reqs are always appreciated !!
tags: @pinkhotdogsfr @wxnderingthoughts @ellielovesrobinarellano ( check out my tag guide !! )
warnings: [y/n] being a boss, sully siblings are so cute and supportive, some annoying boy attitude, guys being kinda creepy and obsessive, [y/n]’s undeniable and accidental rizz, non-consensual touch ( like a touch on the arm, but still aggravating )
2.5k words
independence
GIF by world-of-pandora
if there was one thing about [y/n] sully, it was that she was her mother’s daughter. any na’vi that knew the two of them could tell you this. from her skills on the battlefield to her independence, it was clear to all that neytiri had raised her eldest daughter in a way that she had no need to depend on anyone other than herself, as every young female should.
as a result, [y/n] sully stood among some of the strongest warriors in her age group. there was a good amount of na’vi—a solid six—her age that provided hope for the future. when it came their time to protect the clan, jake and neytiri lived in a little bit more peace knowing that the omaticaya would be safe in their hands
it was one of those days, with the core six, in which [y/n] spent her afternoon scouting. they’d split into two groups a few minutes prior, deciding to cover ground much quicker while separated.
“hey, [y/n]!” ole’ey called from behind, her friend’s voice becoming apparent directly in [y/n]’s ear thanks to the intercom necklaces they wore ( although, they were only allowed to wear them while on patrol. )
“hm?” [y/n] hummed, her peripheral vision picking up an image of ole’ey, a smirk resting on her face.
“has kllalu asked you out yet?”
on the other side of her, [y/n] heard her other friend, meyio, guffaw, losing his mind over the situation. “kllalu?” he screamed, not even bothering to go through comms because of how loud he was.
immediately, [y/n] dropped her face into her hands. “are you kidding?”
“so, i’m going to take that as a no.”
the sully daughter collapsed on her ikran, laying stomach down as she leaned the top-half of her weight against the creature’s neck. “i hate my life.”
“oh, please!” meyio teased. “you just have an impeccable amount of game. it’s natural!”
“it comes from your father’s side,” ole’ey added, not missing a beat, sending meyio once again as he screamed in laughter.
[y/n] cringed, hitting her forehead against her ikran. “that is disgusting. do not ever say that again. like, ever.”
“it’s just the plain truth!”
the three of them, [y/n], meyio, and ole’ey, were, if anything, an iconic trio. ever since [y/n] started training with other children around the clan, the three immediately drifted towards each other. after five long years later, neytiri and jake were practically their second pair of parents.
as a result of their friendship, all three of them improved their skills together, spending their time sparring with each other. they still often reminded each other of the day that meyio said something offensive—probably having to do with the other two being girls—and as a result, ole’ey and [y/n] absolutely annihilated him the next day at training. it even got the point in which the two young girls were reprimanded by jake ( although, neytiri was absolutely losing it when he came home and told his mate the story. )
but, no matter how often the two girls practiced their fighting skills by beating up meyio, they were all the best of friends. so, that meant immense teasing.
“i do not care what the plain truth is—you do not say that about somebody’s father to his daughter.” [y/n] was exasperated. not only did she have to deal with yet another male trying to convince her that they were ‘made for each other,’ but now she couldn’t get the thought of her father’s charm out of her head.
“okay, moving on from the epitome of hot dads,” meyio interrupted, causing a cry of anguish to leave [y/n]’s throat as she slammed her head against her ikran again, “what do you think kllalu is gonna say?”
as [y/n] attempted to ignore her friends, the fake deep voice of ole’ey kept her more than engaged in the moment. “‘oh, [y/n]. you’re like, as pretty as the stars or whatever. but, you know what’d be prettier? our future kids.’”
“ew!” she groaned, her hands going to her temples as to keep herself from jumping off of her ikran and strangling her friends.
“oh, that’s good,” meyio complimented, to which ole’ey sent a mock bow. “how about… ‘[y/n], i visited the spirit tree last night. i think, now i could be wrong, but… i think i saw us. together.’”
“now that’s just foul.” [y/n] argued. “using eywa’s visions as a way to bag me? he wouldn’t.”
meyio raised his hands defensively. “if you say so… but, i wouldn’t put it past him.”
“you two are unbelievable. this is like, my worst nightmare, and you’re making a joke out of it! some friends you are,” she grumbled.
“i’m sorry, [y/n],” ole’ey trailed, the smile in her voice apparent. “it’s not that we’re laughing about you having a problem.”
“yeah!” meyio added. “we’re laughing about this being the eight-hundreth time having the same exact problem.”
[y/n] groaned. “i know.” she shook her head, gazing at the forest below them. “why do they all keep trying. i have rejected every single one of them—why do they think that they’re different?”
meyio whistled at that. “what can i say, men love a good chase.”
she rolled her eyes. “i am not a chase, i am… i don’t even know! but i am definitely not a chase.”
“yes, you are not a chase because you don’t let them chase. i have never seen you give any one of them a chance!” ole’ey laughed. she wasn’t scrutinizing, and [y/n] knew that, she was just stating the truth. and still, it was a hard truth to swallow.
[y/n] had never been an easy friend. she grew up as the daughter of the toruk makto, and that meant that not only did her parents expect a lot from her, but so did everyone else in the clan. those were the words that motivated her to become such an amazing warrior—that, and the fact that she always wished to be like her mother.
she never really questioned it ever since her young mind decided who she was going to be. no, because she set a goal, and she would do whatever it took to accomplish that goal. and now, she’d finally reached it. who is she to become now?
she’d never learned to make friends—to even be friendly—she only wound up with meyio and ole’ey because she was lucky. she was, in all honesty, terrified of finding even a potential mate, because that meant she had to acknowledge that she was moving on into the future without even the slightest plan. all she wanted to do, for once in her life, was to enjoy living as a teenage na’vi.
later that afternoon, [y/n], meyio, and ole’ey sat in the clearing, alongside all four of the other sully siblings. after their morning of patrol, the trio was considerably tired, but that did not stop meyio and [y/n] from tackling each other.
all around the pair circled the rest of the kids, egging on the fight. it was, of course, a simple spar, and was something that they considered very normal in their routine.
“meyio, i swear to eywa if you lose, i am going to murder you!” lo’ak yelled from the sidelines, a threat that was motivated after he and ole’ey made bets on who would win.
“just keep doing what you’re doing, bud,” ole’ey added with a smirk, causing kiri to burst into laughter.
tuk was sat atop neteyam’s shoulders, allowing for a better view of their scrap. “meyio is kind of bad,” she mumbled, a comment that had her oldest brother wheezing for breath.
[y/n] was, by far, dominating. as she always did. at that point, after knowing her for five years, meyio had only a thirty-two percent win rate, so he was never shocked when the fight ended with him crying, “mercy!”
this fight, however, went a little different.
because as [y/n] triumphantly sat on his back, her hands pushing his face down into the mud as she teased, “you did this to yourself!” all of her confidence flew down the drain the moment she saw a familiar male in the distance.
immediately, the girl stopped, and with the lack of pressure against his neck, meyio flipped her over. [y/n] sputtered for breath, her lungs heaving after the wind was knocked out of her.
“hah!” meyio triumphed, only stopping when he noticed the look on her face. “[y/n]?”
“oh, come one!” lo’ak groaned. “meyio, finish the fight so i don’t lose any more money on you than i already have!”
when meyio ignored lo’ak’s comment, everyone grew curious. each other them took a step forward, peeking at the expression on [y/n]’s face.
based on her wide eyes that stared in the distance, kiri decided to follow her gaze. when she caught sight of kllalu, she bust into laughter. “are you scared of little-old kllalu? the one who we used to call ‘stick?’”
ole’ey sputtered a laugh. “why’d you call him ‘stick’”
“he stabbed himself with a stick and wouldn’t stop crying.”
the girl gasped. “oh my eywa, i remember that!”
meanwhile, meyio mumbled, “that is the dumbest nickname.”
ignoring the teasing comments, neteyam took tuk off of his shoulders, placing her on the ground before he walked closer to his sister. “what’d kllalu do?”
“nothing!” she cried. “that’s the problem!”
lo’ak looked unimpressed at her answer. “now, what is that supposed to mean? we are not mind readers, despite norm’s book of theories.”
“uh correction,” kiri pointed out. “norm’s theory is that the plants were mind readers.”
“guys!” tuk whined. “[y/n]’s upset.”
“right!” meyio called, a smirk pulling onto his face. “she’s upset because kllalu is planning to ask her out.”
both sully boys groaned at that information. “another one?” lo’ak asked, exasperated.
[y/n] lifted herself off of the ground, attempting to brush off as much dirt as she could. “i’m as unhappy about it as you are! this is like, the millionth rejection i’ve ever had to do!”
“will they ever catch on?” neteyam groaned, holding his head in his hands.
“that’s what i’m wondering!” [y/n] cried, staring up at the sky with an unamused look on her face.
“i’m telling you,” meyio yelled. “they love the chase.”
all at once, every single sully sibling responded with, “there is no chase!”
silence followed soon after, leaving meyio blinking absentmindedly at them. “okay,” he said, smacking his lips. “noted!”
“au,” [y/n] cried, shaking her head. “he is nearly here.”
“okay,” tuk yelled. “everyone be quiet and stare at him so we scare him away.” her idea had everyone but [y/n] shouting words of agreement.
immediately, [y/n] shook her head. “no—no!” she sighed. “look, i need to do this myself. just… act normal. i don’t know! i’m just gonna say what finally needs to be said.”
“and what is that?” kiri asked, eyebrows raised.
but, before she could answer, kllalu stepped into a radius that was far too close to answer without him hearing. so, as the remind them of their job, [y/n] sent one last look at the group of kids. quiet.
“[y/n]!” the boy greeted, a smirk placed on his lips. immediately, all six of the kids behind [y/n] were set off with annoyance.
she nodded her head. “kllalu.” [y/n]’s tone was dry, already setting the mood for an awkward conversation.
“how are you?” he attempted, stopping in front of her.
“i am doing great.”
he nodded slowly. “nice!” this was an extremely painful experience for everyone that was watching.
when she left the conversation hanging, kllalu cleared his throat. “so,” he continued slowly. “i was wondering if i could speak with you?”
she cocked her head ever-so-slightly. “you are speaking now, no?”
“uh,” he swallowed. “i was thinking, like… alone?”
immediately she shook her head. “i’d rather not leave my siblings.” she blinked. “and ole’ey and meyio.” behind her, the six of them waved cheerfully, leaving kllalu dumbstruck. “whatever you must say, you are fully capable of saying in front of them.”
“right!” he nodded. “yeah, no, i totally get it.” kllalu looked at the ground, stretching his arm to scratch the back of his neck. silence returned.
“you were going to say something, kllalu?”
he nodded. “uh, yeah.” her patience was thinning by the second. “i was just, uh, thinking. because, um, last night i visited the spirit tree—”
“no, kllalu.” ( behind [y/n], meyio was silently pointing and laughing at ole’ey since he guessed correctly. )
he blinked. “no? you don’t even know what i was going to say.”
she stared at him with a look. really? “i am not dumb.”
“but, why? i mean, i know you’ve rejected every single guy who has attempted, but why? why all of them?” he shook his head in disbelief. “how do you know i am not the right one?” as soon as kllalu’s hand grabbed her bicep, the entire group of six behind them burst.
“what do you think you’re doing?” neteyam growled, pushing himself off of the ground.
lo’ak was quick behind him. “she said no, dumbass.”
“do you need help understanding?” kiri took a step towards them.
with a huff, [y/n] held a hand up to her siblings and friends. once they’d frozen in place, she then grabbed his wrist tightly, ripping it off of her. “are you daft?”
“wha—no!”
“i will repeat it to you in words that your small brain can understand, and if you could do me a wonderful favor and tell every male that wants to ask me out, i would greatly appreciate it.” she stepped towards him, teeth bared. “i am in no need of a male’s help, nor his love. i am not a challenge, i am not a game to see whether or not you will be the one to convince me, i am not something to chase. you and all the other dumb males will stop asking me, because it is becoming offensive.” she bit her bottom lip, a mocking smile appearing on her lips. “i have made it this far independently. i will not let that go by having a male choose me as his mate. when the time comes, i will choose. do you understand?”
he nodded.
she raised her eyebrows. “do you understand?”
“yes.”
“good.” she stepped back, feeling the safety of her friends and family. “now, please go away. you have ruined a perfectly fine afternoon.”
as they watched him stumble away, [y/n] felt not only her own pride swell in her heart, but the pride of her friends and siblings. sure, they knew [y/n] sully was strong, scary, all the good stuff, but it was always refreshing to watch it come out.
it always reminded them of why the adults of the clan were not at all worried for the omaticayans future. there was nothing to worry about when warriors like [y/n] existed.
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To the end (Chapter 1)
The end of the world as you knew it began with the virus spreading in your dorm. Six months later, you are once again on the run. By your side is Sukuna, the bad boy of your camp, the most unlikely companion you expected. But maybe this is exactly as it should be because sometimes hope comes in the form of a smug smirk and a tattooed pair of sword-yielding arms.
Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female)
Genre: Zombie Apocalypse AU, horror, smut and some fluff
Word Count: 3k
Warnings: 18+, violence, gore, angst, smut in later chapters, zombies, fighting, knives, blood, mentions of several side characters' deaths, alcohol, suicidal thoughts. This AU is based on The Walking Dead, so imagine a world like this. It's cruel and hopeless at times, but there is also a love story :) All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact. I have to re-post this chapter because it didn't show up on people's dash the first time.
The attack happens so fast that you don't even have time to process what is happening. One moment you are fast asleep on your bed in the small trailer you share with your former college dormmate. The next moment you are awoken by screams and the sound of someone banging on the door.
You sit up in bed with a gasp, instantly fully awake. Your heart is beating up to your throat as fear grips you, making you feel sick and letting black spots dance in front of your eyes.
Please not again!
But you know there is no other explanation. You know these sounds. They are here. Another wave of zombies. They always find you, no matter where you go.
You started out six months ago in your college town when the mysterious virus began to spread all over the country. At first, you and the others in your dorm had decided to lock yourself in the building. It had seemed like a fortress, like a safe place. You had enough blankets, clothes, food, and drinks to last a long time. Maybe it could have really worked. But then that blonde girl from your English course suddenly lunged at her roommate, tearing out a chunk of her arm right in front of your eyes.
The virus couldn't be stopped from spreading through your supposedly safe place after that. The moment you found out that you had to destroy the brain, it was already too late, and even the poor souls you had assumed had found eternal rest came back to life in the most gruesome way.
The battle was lost. No matter how many of your former classmates you and the other survivors had to stab, there was always another one who suddenly went into predator mode.
You had to give up the dorm and flee the city. In the beginning, you were a group of ten, but you lost several on the way. In the end, only your roommate and you made it out of the city.
The two of you found shelter in a former kindergarten in a suburb until that was run over by a wave coming from the city.
After that, you were on the road in a shabby old trailer, sharing it with three other people from the kindergarten.
A farmer's family took you in after a few weeks and let your little group move into their barn if you helped protect the farm.
It was actually nice there. The people were kind and helpful and always had enough food and clean clothes.
But after several months, gunshots sounded one night, and ten minutes later, the friendly farmer family was no more, and instead, the farm was taken over by a group of brutal rogues. Your friend and you were the only ones who managed to escape by crawling through the pigpen until you were far away enough to dare to stand up and run.
A week later, you found a new place to stay. This small camp with several trailers and tents. The group was an array of people, small groups of twos or threes who had made it here like you and your roommate and decided to join this community.
Several weeks had passed, and you had begun to feel pretty safe here. The camp was peaceful most of the time. There were hardly any problems. People got assigned jobs depending on their skills, so everyone contributed to ensuring the group stayed alive. The few encounters you had with zombies were solved quickly.
You should have known that it wouldn't stay that way.
You hastily grab your backpack and the long knife you use as a weapon before stumbling out into the night.
The camp is illuminated by a full moon and several torches that some people are swinging to try to chase away the walkers.
"Those are too many. We will never be able to keep the camp!"
Your friend's voice is full of fear, bordering on hysterical, as she steps out behind you and sees the chaos that is reigning out here.
You know that she is right.
"Let's get away from here!"
The next few minutes go by in a frantic blur. People are screaming, the grass is slippery from things you don't want to think about, and fire is everywhere, blinding you, making you disoriented.
"In which direction do we have to go to get to the road?"
There is no answer.
Your heart clenches in dread as you turn around to your friend. She isn't where she's supposed to be.
Instead of following you through the chaos, she is on the ground several meters away, beneath a pile of zombies. Her face is distorted in pain, eyes wide with fear, and a horrible-sounding scream finds its way out of her lips.
You automatically clutch the knife tighter in your hand, taking a step towards her, instinctively wanting to help, even though the rational part of your brain knows it's too late.
Your attempt to save her is aborted by another walker falling on top of your friend. It buries her under its weight, and the piercing scream from her mouth stops instantly.
Your eyes widen in shock. Unable to move, you stare at the place where your only friend left just disappeared under the greedy bodies of those undead monsters.
It's a gunshot to your right that makes you come out of your stupor. Your breath comes out in panicky huffs as you start running again without knowing where you are going. Hopefully, you will find the way to the road so you can follow it to a hiding place.
Your heart is beating too fast, panic is making you run at a higher speed, but you can't breathe, and you see lights dancing before your eyes, making you disoriented and stumble over stones and other obstacles.
A desperate sob escapes your mouth. You won't make it out of here. You can't see where you are going, and you have lost orientation. You are all alone! How are you supposed to make it?
Suddenly a hand grabs your arm, and you gasp in fear, instinctively trying to shake the attacker off, lifting your hand that's holding the knife, but it gets pressed down again. You struggle against the iron grip but have no chance.
"Stop it, brat! Do you want to get us both killed? I'm trying to save your life here!"
The voice seems vaguely familiar. Your head whips around, and you see moonlight illuminating pastel pink hair. Relief washes over you. Pink is good! Pink is safe! Pink means this is one of the Itadori twins!
Sukuna, you realize a second later when you see the black tattoos on his face and the mad glint in his maroon eyes.
Now that you know who grabbed you, your resistance is gone, and he can easily pull you along. You stumble after him, grateful for his firm grip on you. Your free hand is desperately clutching the handle of your knife while you're breathing harshly and looking feverishly around for any attackers.
There are some on the small path before you, but Sukuna takes care of them with three powerful swings of his sword.
You were always fascinated by the katana he carries around with him. It looks impressive, and combined with Sukuna's strength, it is probably the deadliest weapon in this whole camp. Sukuna looks majestic when swinging it.
He is always imposing, with or without the sword in his hands. Sukuna is tall and muscular. The dangerous smirk and cold rage in his eyes combined with the black tattoed lines adorning his face and body give him a powerful and untouchable aura.
You can't really claim to know him. But you occasionally interacted with him, mainly when your group needed a strong guy to help carry something and you couldn't find Yuuji, the nicer one of the Itadori twins. The brothers live in a mobile home on the other end of the camp. Or used to. You doubt any of it is still standing. The camp is lost.
A sob escapes your mouth before you can help it, but luckily it gets drowned out by the gurgling noises of the zombies Sukuna is slaying.
There are more coming your way, you realize, and you lift your hand that's holding the knife, suddenly getting a spur of adrenaline and hope now that he's here and dragging you with him, away from certain death.
You have no idea where you're going or if you will live to see the sunrise one more time, but at least there's a chance of survival now that one of the best fighters of your former camp is here.
And the least you can do is help your temporary savior. A bitter conviction settles over you. If you go down tonight, it will be with a fight, and you will make sure the pink-haired twin is the last to go. You owe that to him.
His gaze meets yours across the blood splattering off the blades of his katana and your knife as you stab two zombies next to each other.
A small smirk tugs at Sukuna's lips, and he gives you a curt nod, showing you that he approves of your decision to fight alongside him.
He turns around, muscular arms lifted high in the air to bring his katana down again to slay more attackers. You follow him quickly, backing him up with your knife in your hands, ready to strike any moment.
"Hold on to me so you don't get lost. I want to seek shelter in the woods."
You do as he tells you, grabbing his backpack with one hand while you fall into step with him, keeping watch of your surroundings, knife ready.
You are working on autopilot right now, step after step, lifting your knife to stab at the occasional zombie coming up to you. Blinking away the blood that drizzles down on you when Sukuna takes another swing with his katana.
You don't know how long you stumble through the grass like that. Your muscles ache, and your lungs hurt with the harsh breaths you take. But your mind is clear and focused on the task of staying alive.
It must have been at least fifteen minutes since you last saw anyone from your camp. That thought makes your next step falter for a moment, making you stumble against Sukuna's muscular frame.
You don't have anyone left, but Sukuna still has his brother, so why is he out here without the other pink-haired twin?
"Where is your brother?"
Sukuna's next strike with his katana is even more brutal, beheading a walker with so much force that the head flies through the air in a grotesque imitation of a baseball game.
"I don't know. We got separated."
He presses out between his teeth, sounding strained for the first time this night.
"I... I'm sorry!"
"Yuuji knows how to fight. He has good instincts, so I know he went into the woods too. We will find him!"
The last part is a vicious-sounding growl as if Sukuna is trying to convince himself as much as he's trying to convince you that his brother is ok and he will see him again.
Sukuna's left foot connects with the head of a zombie that's crawling towards the two of you, crashing it beneath the soles of his black army boots, exorcising yet another demon and reminding you to stay alert. This fight isn't over yet.
You finally make it into the woods, hacking your way through some bushes until you reach a forest path that leads you deeper between the giant trees.
The attacks become less frequent until they stop altogether. It was a good decision to go into the forest, the direction where the walkers came from. In their mindless hunger, they just kept on following after their group.
But Sukuna doesn't stop walking. You struggle to keep up with his large strides, almost running to stay by his side.
When your sneakers catch on a root, Sukuna's arm darts out to catch you before you can fall. Even after hours of fighting, he's still alert and strong. He has the body and wit of a warrior. Tall and full of lean muscles combined with a sharp mind. A perfect killing machine.
He doesn't let go of you again after your almost fall. Instead, his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you against his side so he can drag you along.
You are grateful for it. Without Sukuna, you'd probably tumble to the ground and stay there lying in the dirt, body unable to muster up the strength to keep walking.
"Over there."
Your gaze follows the direction Sukuna is pointing at with his free hand. On a small clearing between a group of large dark trees is a wooden hut.
Sukuna is already walking towards it, pulling you along while he unsheathes his katana.
"Let's check if it's clear. It would be a good place to stay for the rest of the night."
To your relief, there is no sight of any walkers or other people. The hut seems to have been abandoned a long time ago. Its interior is dusty and has a stale smell. It is small but sufficient for the two of you. A bed, a cupboard, and a small table with a chair are there. You assume the cabin belonged to a hunter who sometimes spent the nights here.
Sukuna grins and gives you a thumbs up, finally letting go of you so he can put his backpack and sword on the table and barricade the door by pushing the heavy wooden cupboard against it.
You lean exhaustedly against the wall next to the door and let out a long sigh. Finally, you can get some rest. You close your eyes, feeling some of the tension leave your body as your fists unclench by your side.
But unfortunately, not being in the middle of a fight or on a quest to find shelter also gives you time to think.
And suddenly, it all crashes over you. The exhaustion, the fear, and all the death and destruction you saw tonight. Your friend's body trapped under the horde of walkers, seeing their hands wrap around her arms and legs, their teeth digging into her flesh.
Your knees give in, and you slide down the wooden wall of the cabin, crumbling bonelessly to the floor. A broken sob escapes your mouth as you wrap your arms around your knees, pulling them to your body, hugging yourself, nails digging into your legs as you shake.
Your whole body is trembling, shaken by the desperate sobs that force their way out of your lips, too frequent and too intense. You are crying so hard that it hurts your lungs and throat.
You lost another person! Another friend. The last one you still had. You are alone!
Suddenly a warm hand lands on your arm, startling you. Your head snaps up, and your gaze meets a pair of narrowed maroon eyes.
"Hey, brat, what are you doing? Are you having a panic attack or something?"
Sukuna is crouching down before you, mustering you with those unrelenting eyes. The blood and dirt on his face mingle with his tattoos and paint a creepy pattern on his skin. He looks like the personification of this night full of violence.
"N...no I...I... I'm ok."
He raises an eyebrow and laughs that arrogant mocking laugh you have often heard across the camp.
"Oh, don't even try that shit on me, honey. We both know that's a lie."
You bring your hands to your eyes, wiping away the tears only for fresh ones to well up immediately. Your chest heaves with another loud sob. It's painful to talk, and if you weren't so exhausted, you'd feel ashamed for how broken you sound.
"I don't have anyone anymore."
You bury your face in your hands, shaking with more sobs. But through your desperation, Sukuna's low, calm voice carries to your ears,
"That's not true. You have me."
Warm, strong fingers wrap around your wrists and pull your hands away from your face. You blink against the tears streaming down your face and lift your head to look at Sukuna.
This is the gentlest you have ever heard him speak. His eyes are still staring you down, though, two burning fires that glitter dangerously in the moonlight streaming in through the window.
"Listen, brat. You have to get a fucking grip. I need you to keep going because we are in this freak show together now."
The words he chooses are harsh, but they give you a strange kind of comfort. Sukuna isn't the type to sugarcoat things. He knows that only the strong ones survive out here. But he said "we," reassuring you again that you aren't alone in this. It keeps you from falling back down into that dark hole inside your mind.
Without realizing it, your fingers are suddenly intertwined with his, nails digging into the back of Sukuna's hands, clutching them so tightly that it must be painful. But you cling to him as if he is the only thing keeping you alive.
And he really is, isn't he?
You often ask yourself why you even still go on. Death seems like the easy option. The promise of eternal sleep sounds like a relief. And yet, you find yourself going on day after dark day. Maybe that's what human nature is. Even when you are stripped of anything else, there is still this little spark of hope that makes you keep going, no matter how meaningless it all seems. Maybe that hope is the cruelest curse of it all.
But tonight, you are grateful for it. Because when facing death earlier in the camp, you knew one thing for sure. You didn't want to die. Not like this.
So hope is a good thing, and tonight it came in the form of a smug smirk and a tattooed pair of sword-yielding arms.
You cling to Sukuna as if you cling to dear life. His eyes widen, and he tugs at his hands, freeing them from your violent grasp.
A dark laugh escapes his lips as he rubs the back of his hands where your nails left bloody marks,
"So are you ok again? You're not gonna have another breakdown?"
You nod slightly as a soft laugh bubbles out of your aching chest, bordering on hysterical. You quickly bump a fist against your chest and cough softly before you whisper,
"I think I'll...I'll manage. Thank you."
Sukuna seems to be satisfied with your answer. He rises to his feet, towering over you in all his glory, tall and strong.
"Alright, seems like this is a relatively safe place to spend the rest of the night. Try to get some sleep. We'll clean up and decide what to do once you have gotten some rest."
The last thing you are aware of is Sukuna pulling you up from the floor and lifting you into his strong arms to carry you over to the dusty bed and dumping you there.
You fall asleep to the memory of his low voice saying, "we".
You aren't alone.
Thank you so much for reading the first chapter of my Halloween series!! I hope you enjoyed it! The idea has been in my drafts for several months now, and I'm thrilled to finally work on it. I love TWD, and while taking a walk in the woods several months ago, I was reminded of the series, and suddenly I pictured Sukuna in it, and that's how the idea for this AU was born. I spent the whole walk imagining a story with him, and I couldn't get it out of my head again.
Honestly, if I had to pick someone to be by my side during the zombie apocalypse, it would be this version of Sukuna :) Please let me know what you think! Would you pick him as your zombie apocalypse partner too? Comments and reblogs would mean a lot to me!
Chapter 2
#sukuna x reader#sukuna fluff#sukuna smut#sukuna#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk fluff#ryomen sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna#ryomen sukuna smut#ryomen sukuna fluff#tw blood
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The Only Real Thing | EH9
A/N: Finally !! A football Imagine !! The amount of players I imagined this for before settling for Erling 💀. Anyways, Enjoy 🥳
Genre: fluff, then heart-wrenching angst. Erling Haaland x Singer!FemReader.
Words: 4.7K
Synopsis: after your tour’s last show at the Etihad, your Manchester songwriting sessions start for the next six months. However, a newly found love between you and a Norwegian player gets harder to navigate the closer your time to go back to your life in the US gets.
⭐️⭐️⭐️
You look out the plane's window, trying to count the clouds filling up the night sky to get your mind off counting the cracks in your heart or the tears that won't stop falling.
Why won't anything last? Why can't anything perfect just exist? But then you wouldn't have had the six months worth a life time with him anyway.
It wasn't perfect. But you still loved every living minute of it. You loved his imperfect guitar skills, his imperfect dancing, his imperfect cooking. All his imperfects were perfect to you.
You wished that your team never handed out tickets to the ManCity players for your Etihad Stadium concert. You wished you hadn't met him. That meant you won't ever have all the memories from your short time together, and you were okay with that. You can live without this heart ache. You can definitely live without Erling's sobs and red face engraved in your head.
You try to pin point exactly when you lost yourself to him. Your songwriting sessions in Manchester were supposed to come and go quietly after your tour's last show at the Etihad.
You weren't supposed to run into a Norwegian player from a sky blue team two days later. He wasn't supposed to complement your music. You weren't supposed to blush as you thanked him. And he absolutely shouldn't have asked you out for lunch.
But you still ran into that Norwegian player, and you still agreed for lunch. You sat in the cool Manchester air outside a quiet restaurant and just talked about anything that came to mind.
You talked about music and he talked about football. You hoped he didn't notice how much you were enjoying talking with him over pizza and coke. It was embarrassingly a lot. But you didn't know that he felt exactly the same way.
He never wanted it to end.
He didn't want all his planning to purposely run into you outside the studio you worked at to end in just an hour.
So he was obviously unhappy when Pep called his number, asking where he was.
"Training?" You smiled, ignoring the disappointment that he had to go and that you'll probably never see him again. At least not in person.
"Yeah. Maybe I could show you around tomorrow since it's my day off. I've been in Manchester long enough to finally say this to someone" he proudly opens his arms and you laugh lightly, keeping your excitement as low as possible for it not to show.
And he did show you Manchester the next day. He took you downtown, to the park he always goes to when he wants to just relax after a busy week of games and training, to where all the tourists go when they usually visit, and where he and his teammates usually hang out around the Etihad.
"I never knew there's this much to do in Manchester" you smile at him and he shakes his head.
"Me neither. It's a beautiful 'City'" he does air quotes and laughs. You roll your eyes at his joke, laughing along with him.
He drops you off at your rented house and waits until you get inside. You fight the urge to look back and wave one last time at your newly found crush. You felt so stupid for admitting it, but for the next few weeks, you waited for him to text you, you danced around your room when he finally did, you hoped and dreamt of when he would ask you to hang out again, you looked for tickets to his games, thought about how his cheeks redden under the sun, how focused he gets when driving, and how excited he gets when he talks about football.
A few weeks of texting lead to something more. You start writing songs about how he made you feel. About your little interactions. About him.
Going downtown turned into going to his house. Just a few hours turned into all day. Hearing about training and games turned into watching them live at the Etihad.
"That was a great game!" You try to convince him as you walked out of the stadium after a disappointing game. He still sulks as you walk to his car.
"We could've won with a bigger difference" he whines and you shake your head, leaning back on his car door when you reached it. He stands in front of you.
"You still won, though. Give yourself and the team some credit" you tell him. He doesn't reply.
He looks up and you admire how the setting sun washes his face golden. He looks at you, not holding back any emotion from flooding his eyes and drowning you in admiration. You don't either. You don't hold back from staring into his eyes for as long as he would let you.
"I've been..." he walks closer to you, hesitantly taking your hands in his own. Your heart feels like it could stop any second. You almost urge him to just say it. To finally make your dreams come to life.
"You're all I think about" he laughs nervously. You don't. You're too flustered to do or say anything.
"And I just can't wait any longer to ask you to be mine. I want you for myself. I want you to be wearing my jersey when I look at the crowd and look for you" he says so quietly it's almost a whisper. You wanted to kiss him. Right then and there. So when he leaned in, you placed a hand on his cheek and he took that as an invitation to lean in further.
You've never felt anything like you did in that moment. Nothing even came close. Everything felt meaningless compared to it. You wanted him more than you've ever wanted anything. You wanted that kiss to last a life time, but nothing does unfortunately.
Once Erling pulled away, you looked down at your feet and pursed your lips together as he looked around. Nervous and flustered, you turn around and open the car door, getting in quickly and leaving Erling outside.
He looks at you through the window and chuckles. However, you don't see him jump up and down, raising two thumbs ups to Jack, John, and Ruben who just witnessed everything that happened between the two of you. They smiled proudly at Erling who never stopped talking about you to them. How he was going to ask you to be finally his. So, they had a mini party right there that he finally got you.
Things in the studio were fired up. With your raging emotions, so much was getting done and work has never been easier. You and Erling hung out every day at that point. He would sometimes come hang out at the studio, and you'd leave together to spend the night at his place.
He would cook you too salty, or too bland meals every time you went to his place. His movie choices were peculiar, yet enjoyable. His arms were slowly becoming home to you, and his clothes were becoming your daily attire.
You attended every game. You did wear his jersey to every single one of them, and though the Etihad was always full of thousands of people, Erling always looked up to only you to celebrate his goals.
It was a Tuesday night at his place. Half eaten, too salty pasta sat in ceramic plates on the coffee table and a soap opera on Erling's TV. You laid on top of Erling on his living room's couch, resting your head of his chest while silently counting his calm heart beats and enjoying the warmth from his wrapped arm around your body.
"Y/n" Erling calls quietly.
"Hm?" You hum in response, your eyes focused on the TV.
He suddenly detangles himself from you and towers above you as he stands next to the couch. You look up at him before he carries you. You giggle, unconsciously wrapping your arms around his neck and brining your face close to his.
Your foreheads touch and you both stay quiet for a second. You wait for Erling to speak.
"I'm in love with you, y/n y/l/n" he whispers and your heart explodes with an emotion you could only explain as love. You thought of all the explanations of love you came across throughout your life. You compared them to what you felt in that moment, but to no avail. Nothing came close to that feeling. That feeling could never be articulated. Could never be conveyed through mere speech or writing.
"I'm in love with you, Erling Haaland" you whisper back before kissing him, hoping to convey how real your feelings were for him. How deep you felt how you felt towards him.
As your fourth month in Manchester wraps up, you realize how far you and Erling have come. And how close your time to go back to the States was coming too.
But you kept your eyes shut and your ears plugged. You convinced yourself that by doing so, that day would just never come around.
You two still held hands every chance you got, you still slow danced around Erling's living room, you still went to every game, Erling still celebrated his goals and wins with only you. You kept writing songs about him and he kept dedicating all his hard work to you.
"Come on close your eyes" Erling urged and you placed both hands on your eyes. You were sat on his bed, ready to go to sleep when he announced that he got you something. He dangled a necklace right in front of your face.
"Open them" he orders quietly. You do so and gasp at the dangling jewelry in front of you.
Erling admires your reaction as you take the necklace in your hand. You inspect the golden letters written in his cursive handwriting. It was both of your initials.
"This way you'll always have a piece of me with you when I'm away" he says quietly and you look at him. You quickly hug him tightly, trying to bury the heart ache that only keeps getting more tangible.
The more time that passes, the harder it gets to hide the fact that this whole whirlwind romance won't last. You knew that. Erling knew that too. But, understandably, none of you wanted to admit it. So you swallowed the lump in your throat and forced your tears back into their ducts and he held you tighter than usual.
"I love you" you mumbled into his neck and he kissed your temple, still holding you.
"I love you" he said it back to you like he always did and forever will.
You finally meet his family. You get to know his younger sisters and help his mother in the kitchen. You try to test your football trivia with his dad and you actually impress him with how much you picked up since you got together with Erling.
Under the dinner table, your hands intertwine and your heart flutters at the way his parents smile at you every time Erling talks about you.
At the Etihad, things are also getting fired up because of Erling's raging emotions. He runs faster, laughs louder, and scores better. Pep, Jack, and John stand next to each other, admiring his genuine laughter at something Kyle said.
"Funny what love does to you" John says quietly, still smiling at Erling. Jack nodded, his eyes focused on Erling as well.
Only Pep was worried. He knew once the slightest crack occurs in Erlings dream relationship, and not because his performance will plummet, but because he knew how hard heartbreak could be. And he knew damn well that he'll just stand and watch, because nothing ever mends a broken heart.
Towards the end of your sixth month in Manchester, a coherent draft of your upcoming studio album finally came together. You couldn't wait to go home and tell Erling all about it and even listen to it with him.
It was all about falling in love with him after all.
But the plane tickets your manager handed you blew everything away. It was a slap across your face. A wake up call to finally leave the waking dream you've been so immersed in.
"Couldn't find any sooner flights, unfortunately. You've got a lot to catch up to once we get back to the States. Some stations asked if they could..." you couldn't hear anything anymore.
How could you be so stupid? It was only then that you realized how far you've let go of yourself.
You knew you were leaving. At some point. But it still definitely snuck up on you. You've been so in love that you forgot the cruelty of your world. You've been in a shared dream that you've completely forgotten about your own.
You didn't know how you ended up at Erling's place, but you did. You walked in, your feet leading you to where he usually was in the living room. It was familiar. Too familiar.
You didn't say a single word. You just laid on the couch, your head on his thigh. He didn't say anything either.
You stayed like that for what seemed like hours, but just a minute later, Erling spoke.
"What's wrong?" His voice was so quiet he was almost whispering. You unravelled. Completely came undone.
You got up, buried your head in chest and just sobbed. You didn't see an end to it. Not in the near future at least. Startled, Erling tries to look at your face, placing both his hands on your wet cheeks.
"Hey, look at me" he whispers. You try to hold it in to try and have a conversation about it.
But what were you going to say? That you couldn't stay? That you were leaving him after the six months worth a lifetime and more? That you weren't taking his sisters to the park next Sunday? Not going to his game next Monday either? That you were returning his clothes that were practically yours? That you were never waking up next to him again? Not partying with his teammates after every win? That you'll move on and find someone else eventually, but never a love like you've had with him?
You could never.
It takes insane self control to take a steady breath to speak one single coherent sentence. You looked at your hands as his eyes studied your puffy face.
"My plane leaves on Wednesday. To LA" you risk a look at his face and it's as if his life crumbled. In a split second, Erling is up on his feet and chuckling. You start crying again, covering your face with your hands.
"That's all?" He laughs. You look up at him and stand up to walk to him.
"You're crying because you're leaving for a few-"
"No! Not a few days, Erling! I'm going back to the US because my whole life is there! Your whole life?! Here!" You scream at him, tears streaming down your face. You let out a few sobs.
"So? We'll make it work" he shrugs and you roll your eyes at his state of denial. You knew. He knew, too.
You won't work. Ever. Not when your lives were across the world from one another.
"Yeah and how is that?" You impatiently cross your arms and wipe your nose with the sleeve of your sweater.
He looks at you for a long moment in a way that cut your heart a million times. Your lips shake and you turn away from him.
You feel his arms around you from behind almost immediately. He keeps you on your feet. You feel him kiss your temple gently, as if reassuring you that it'll be alright.
But it will not. It will never be.
"We'll find a way. We will" even he sounds unsure now and it breaks you. It really shatters your wellbeing.
You let yourself cry as Erling just held you in his safe arms. You try to gather yourself, but you fail for the next ten minutes. Once you succeed, you guide Erling to sit next to you on the couch.
"Erling" you call his name even though he was right next to you. You take his hand and hold it with both of your own.
"Once I leave Manchester" you start. You couldn't control the blurriness in your eyes any longer, so you just let a tear roll down your cheek.
"I'm never coming back" you look up at him. You wished you hadn't, because his face fell once the words left your mouth. You could tell it was the first time it really hit him.
It really hit him hard. In just two days from now, you'll only be another pretty celebrity in someone else's phone. Running from interview to interview, meeting guys way better than him. Guys who could actually play guitar and know how songwriting works. Guys who can actually be there. Guys that were not tied by a football career across the globe from you.
"Erling, I can't come see you in breaks because I never have any other than one or two days. You deserve someone who can actually be here for you-"
He cuts you off by pulling you into his chest, holding you so tight that it was becoming harder to breath. You just stopped talking. Not bearing to break him or yourself any further.
"You're the only one I want. Even if you leave, that will never ever change. Don't tell me I deserve someone better. Don't tell me that I will find someone who could make my heart beat the way you make it do" he begs and you bury your face in the crook of his neck. You didn't sob. You were way too tired. You just let the tears silently find their way down your face.
Erling was wrong. You'll never find a guy better then he is. You loved teaching him how to play the guitar every time he visited the studio, and he didn't know much about songwriting, but he was the inspiration behind your entire upcoming album.
None of you could say it. None of you could come to terms with it and actually face it. You just held each other as if it was your last day on earth.
Waking up the next day next to Erling didn't feel the same. It didn't make your heart race from excitement and happiness. He didn't kiss your face until you yelled at him to stop, your laughter filling his house.
The rest of the day was spent like normal, though. You were skeptical at first when Erling woke up and was acting like nothing had happened the night before. He didn't seem sad. Or like this was technically your last day together. But as the day went on, you appreciated having one last day with him instead of just crying all day.
You went out for a walk at the park Erling took you to when you first met. Laughed at a cat fight over a bird. Sat under a big tree and held hands while taking in the view around you. Went with Erling to his training session afterwards and cheered him on like you always did. After training, you just went home and Erling immediately got to cooking after a quick shower. You watched his every move from where you sat on the kitchen island.
After dinner, you spent the rest of the night just acting blind to the fact that once you left, you were never coming back to him. Holding hands, listening to his heart beat, rewatching your favorite movie, talking about random topics and sharing your opinions on them.
But time never stopped for anyone. Or anything for that matter. It was so cruel that it kept going until one in the morning. Until you had to leave. And it still kept going as you detangled yourself from Erling.
Suddenly, the atmosphere got heavy. Your feet felt like they couldn't walk you out of his door. Your heart didn't seem to take it.
Erling places his head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. He really tried to not cry when it was time, but it was just too much. It was a lot to handle his first ever true love to end just like this.
"Erling" you call him shakily, but he's sobbing at this point. You sat back down next to him, not knowing what to do. He stops himself from crying all of a sudden and gets up. You follow.
"I'll drive you back" he says quietly. You don't object. You follow him to his car.
The drive to your place was awfully quiet. It was too quiet. Every few minutes, you tried stealing a look at him. Checking if he was okay. But you were just kidding yourself. How could he be okay? How could you?
He steps out of his car once he parks in your house's driveway. You do so too. You walk around the car to meet him by the driver's door.
You take his hands and he holds yours. You look up at him and muster a smile. One tugs at his lips too. It was sad, what you were going through. But beautiful. It was all so beautiful nothing will ever compare to it.
He leans in and kisses you. So passionately you almost scream in agony at the thought of it being the last time. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back, hoping to make him feel an ounce of how he made you feel.
You don't pull away from each other for what seemed like an eternity. But when you do, you knew it was a piece of yourself that you've lost and will never be able to restore.
"I love you, y/n" Erling whispers.
"I love you, Erling" you whisper back.
With that, you turn away and walk quickly to your door, as if to outrun the pain. But you knew better than that.
Once your front door shuts, Erling quickly gets into his car, coming completely undone. He cries his heart out, hitting the steering wheel and cursing his mind for playing a reel of the best six months of his life.
You do too. You curse yourself for loving him. You curse yourself for knowing what it's like to be held by him. What it's like to kiss him. Feel him. Hear him talk or watch him cook. Your heart hurts. Your chest hurts too. Your eyes won't stop flooding with tears. You hold the necklace he gave you a few months ago as if you were holding on to him.
Somehow, the next day came a long. Your assistant and manager helped pack the car with you. They doesn't ask about your puffy eyes or sick demeanor. They naturally connected the dots. They knew about you and Erling. Everyone did.
You let yourself silently cry in the backseat on the way to the airport, hoping your manager and assistant don't hear or notice.
After checking in and on your way to security, you hear someone call your name. You turn around to see Jack, John, and Ruben. You smile at them. Genuinely.
"Hey" you greet them, giving them each a quick hug. You ignore the heart ache from not seeing Erling with them.
You two said goodbye last night anyway.
"We couldn't let you leave without saying goodbye in person" John tells you and you smile at them.
"It was fun knowing you guys. Thank you for everything. I never thought I'd make any friends in my time here honestly" you admit.
"Don't let your newly found Brit side die once you get back to America" Jack warns and everyone laughs. Including yourself.
You shake your head and wave at them. They all smile and wave back to you as you start walking backwards.
"I'll stay in touch and watch your games still!" You assure them before turning away to follow your manager and assistant.
And that's how you ended up in a plane, looking out at the clouds, crying as your mind raced with a million thoughts. a million what ifs and would'ves. You thought you won't live long after that heartbreak. You couldn't keep going like this.
But you didn't. As your manager told you, your schedule was full once you got back. You woke up every morning, got your makeup and hair done before running out the door for your scheduled interviews, album shoots, recordings, and many other things you had to do before your album came out.
You still cried yourself to sleep for weeks, though. But it slowly got better. You focused on your work. Your friends. Yourself. You tried your best to not give up. He wouldn't have wanted that for you. Ever.
When your album finally dropped, it was your best one yet. It broke records you never thought you'd break and so many people were enjoying it all across the world. The week your album dropped was a dream turned into reality after two years of constant hard work.
As part of your promotions, you sat in one of the many interviewee chairs you had sat in before. You got comfortable as the interviewer asked you all sorts of questions and you answered them like you always did, wittily yet sufficiently, making the tiny crowd laugh in their seats as they watched.
"About your new album" the interviewer starts and the whole room cheers. You cheer too.
"It seems to be following some sort of plot line, as if telling a story in a way" he continues and you nod along, confirming his theory.
"What's it really about?" The interviewer asks hopefully. You already decided how much you were going to tell the public, so the question didn't surprise you at all.
"About a year ago, I was writing this album in Manchester, UK, and I met this guy while I was there" you start and the room erupts with cheers again. You smile at them before going on.
"We fell for each other a bit too hard" you laugh lightly and the interviewer nods, laughing along.
"But I had to come back to the States and he had to stay in the UK, so" you sigh towards the end.
It was moments like these when you allowed yourself to think about him. About everything that happened last year. You never allowed yourself past just a thought crossing your mind.
But when you actually talked about it, you allowed yourself more than just that. You allowed yourself to remember the little details. To miss him and wonder how he was doing. You've met some guys since then, but Erling had already set the bar impossibly high for any of them to even see.
In Manchester, Erling was still being the star player he is. Since you've left, he had won his first Premier League with ManCity. He still thought about you before, during, and after each game. He kept up with all your news. Watching you shine from afar when you were once in between his arms. He wished you knew how proud he was of you. Of how well your album was doing. That everywhere he went in Manchester, it was being played somewhere.
That night, he watched your interview in bed, his phone resting on the pillow where your head used to rest. He watches you talk about your album and he thinks of how he would've celebrated its success with you. But all he did was smile at his phone screen when you did and hoped you were doing okay off of it too. He prayed every night and everyday that fate will eventually bring you two back together somehow. Still the same, but under different and better circumstances. You prayed for that too.
But until then, all you had was the memories you had together, replaying in your heads and reminding you of the only time you truly felt alive.
#mancity#Manchester city#man city#haaland x reader#haaland#erling haaland#football#football fics#football fic#football imagines#football imagine#haaland angst#haaland fluff#erling haaland angst#erling haaland fluff#football fluff#football angst#mancity fluff#man city fluff#mancity angst#man city angst
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humpback whales
mavdad + whales: a discord prompt written for @nicejobkid
So here’s the thing.
Bradley Bradshaw was all of eighteen years old with a head full of exactly jackshit nothing when he left Maverick and Iceman’s house on the end of the street. He didn’t know a goddamn thing about being an adult, even if he claimed otherwise. He left behind an entire life: baby pictures and journals and reels of home videos.
He really did think leaving was the only choice he had. In hindsight, it’s the dumbest thing he’s ever done.
On the one hand, he knew it would be fine. The Navy always provides. He got three square meals a day at Basic and an annual physical that he always aced, thanks to a lifetime of playing baseball and racing Maverick around the diamond. His old man had no right sprinting that fast.
But then there’s the other hand: the calendar of shots and immunizations a teenage boy going off to college required, the yearly appointments with an optometrist, a dermatologist, and most crucially of all, a dentist.
Bradley, Iceman always said, was blessed in that he didn’t take after either Goose or Maverick, both of whom had terrible teeth. Their x-rays were surely some kind of dental case study in a textbook somewhere. But Bradley had taken after his mother and Iceman, in this regard: his teeth all came in like ducks in a row, pearly white like ivory piano keys.
Maybe it was just bad timing, maybe it was because his teeth were just that good, but when he enlisted, no one bothered to ask Ensign Bradshaw if he’d ever had his wisdom teeth out.
So fifteen years later, with a toothache so bad it’s finally driven him to the clinic—and isn’t that embarrassing, to survive Maverick Mitchell’s particular brand of insanity, an ejection out of an F-18, a dogfight in a jet that had no business being in the air, and a (controlled!) crash landing, only to be done in by a goddamn toothache—Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw, aged thirty-four, with his newly re-acquired father in tow, has his wisdom teeth removed.
They don’t hook him up with an IV, thank goodness. Instead, they give Maverick a packet of pills to make Bradley take an hour before surgery that will supposedly knock him out for the duration.
As a member of the F-18 Ejection Club, Bradley’s been on the good shit for the past few months. He has sincere doubts about these pills.
“Bottoms up, kiddo,” Maverick tells him, pushing the pills towards him with a cup of coffee. It’s the same mug he gave Maverick for Father’s Day when he was ten years old.
“You’re the worst,” Bradley says, swallowing the pills in one go with a scalding hot gulp.
Later, Maverick will laugh at him over the dinner table as he recounts to Ice what exactly happened when Bradley had his wisdom teeth out. (He really shouldn’t have doubted those pills.)
The meds hit about fifteen minutes after he takes them. It falls to Maverick, all five-foot-and-change of him, to wrangle six-foot-oh of Bradley into the Bronco, strap him in, and haul him back out into the dentist’s office. He vaguely remembers being wheeled into one of the surgery rooms and led to sit on the chair, falling asleep, and then waking up to the dentist telling him they’d finished taking his teeth and they just needed to stitch him up.
He immediately bursts into tears—he hates stitches more than anything—and then conks straight out again.
He doesn’t really remember getting home, only that the next time he wakes up, he’s back in Maverick and Ice’s house, laid out on the couch. Maverick is whistling in the kitchen. He’d covered Bradley with an old blanket. A smart move on his part; Bradley drooled on it in his sleep.
Maverick comes back into the room with two bowls of very boring chicken broth.
“Good morning!” he teases. “I didn’t know you were such a lightweight, ducky!”
“Yuh’re de wurst,” Bradley gums through the cotton gauze in his mouth.
Mav hands him a bowl and a spoon. The broth is barely hot. Gross. He looks up at Maverick with the same baleful expression he used to get dessert before dinner as a kid, but Maverick just laughs at him.
“No dice here, Brads. You’re not getting anything hotter, unless you wanna get your stitches replaced.”
Bradley rolls his eyes and slurps his lukewarm soup.
Maverick flips on the TV. He turns on a nature documentary on humpback whales, then kicks his feet up onto the coffee table, the exact way that Bradley knows Ice doesn’t let him.
He can see straight through Maverick. It’s the same routine he used to do when Bradley would stay home from school sick. Animal Planet never failed to knock him out. It was more effective than anything else at getting him to sleep.
But this time, Bradley finds himself staying awake as he watches this otherwise ordinary whale documentary with Maverick sitting next to him on the couch. He’s an adult now, but Maverick is treating him as if no time has passed. There’s no resentment, no blame, for all the pain he’d caused his father.
He missed moments like this, in the years they spent apart. He’d almost forgotten how nice it was to have someone to care for you.
In the end, Bradley stays awake for the whole movie. It’s Maverick who falls asleep, his head lolling to the side to rest on Bradley’s shoulder. It’s not such a bad place to be, Bradley thinks to himself, trapped on a cozy couch with his dad.
He hits play on the documentary again and settles in closer to Maverick. The whales are pretty cool, after all.
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The Switch
Miles Fairchild x fem! Reader
Chapter six: change of heart
Your POV
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I woke up from my sleep pretty early at 5:30 this morning. I remember I didn't really get to plan last night for today's lesson so I decided to spend around an hour doing that. Today we would be doing history so I had to gather a lot of information which took forever. After I decided to get ready because it was almost time for Flora's lesson. I dressed in a long sleeve red shirt with jeans and black shoes. I put my hair up away from my face and headed downstairs.
When I walked into the room I saw Miles reading to Flora. I smiled at how nice it was and put my stuff down on my desk. Miles acknowledged me and tapped Flora's shoulder to point to me. I hugged Flora good morning and walked over to Miles.
"Morning Miles.. what're you reading?" I ask as he turns the cover towards me. "Laura Ingles Wilder? You're into Little House On The Prairie?" I playfully shove his shoulder with a surprised look on my face.
"I mean Flora picked it out, but it's cool." Miles shrugs but smiles at the book.
An hour into Flora's lesson I can tell she's getting restless and needs to get up and move around. Miles is in his room and I decided I wanted to see if he was going to leave or not.
"Hey Flora, let's take a fifteen minute break okay? I'll be back." I say as I go to find Miles letting Flora play with her toys.
"Hey Miles?" I say through the door as I knock on it. I hear a faint 'hm?' "Can I come in? I wanna speak with you." Miles opens the door, nodding his head to the side as a gesture to come in. I walk in and see a small suitcase on his bed. "So..you're leaving again?" I saw looking at the suitcase sadly.
"Actually, no. I was just putting my stuff away." He smiles as he looks at me raising an eyebrow.
"Wait really?" I looked at him with a snap of my neck shocked. "You're staying?!" I let out a happy breath.
"Yeah I mean, I'd feel bad leaving Flora after just coming back. Plus by the time I came back you probably would have been gone. You know, summer." He sighs putting his hands in his pant pockets.
"Why? Do you want me to stay for summer?" I joke looking back at the suitcase.
"I mean..I wouldn't be opposed..?" Miles says shrugging looking at me again with a curved sly smile on his face.
"Oh really now? Thanks for the offer Fairchild, I'll think on it.." I smile at him and walk out of the room closing the door.
'Does he really want me to stay?! Holy shit holy shit!' I yell in my head walking back to Flora's study.
A few hours later I heard the guitar coming from Miles room. The door was already open so I leaned on the door frame waiting for him to notice me. He stops playing when he can't get a chord right. "Fuck.." he whispers in frustration.
"That was really good Miles. You play?" I ask walking into the room. He turns around surprised I was listening in and puts the guitar down.
"Um, yeah..How long were you standing there?" He asks chuckling out his words.
I sit next to him on his bed with my hands on my knees. "Not long. A minute or two maybe?" I saw shrugging trying to act cool. "So, how long you been playing?" I tilt my head to the side trying to start a conversation with him.
"Um for a few- four years." He spurts out quickly figeting with his thumbs.
"Oh that's nice. You know Miles I'm really glad you'd decided to stay. Flora really loves you- of course you already know that but.." I trail off for a moment, "Flora needs a big brother and you're probably the best one I've seen..and I don't know how hard it's been without your parents but when you leave, Flora is stuck with Ms. Grose and she won't live forever. She needs a guardian, not just a nanny or a teacher. She trusts you more than she'll ever trust me or Ms. Grose. And I think that if we work together I can teach you how to take care of her, when Ms. Grose passes?" I say turning towards him nervously pitching her idea for Miles. He turns his head to look at me and slowly nods his head. I smile and hug him while we're still sitting.
"Thank you for understanding Miles, really this means a lot." I give him a more genuine smile. He starts nodding his head a little faster as his eyes dart from my nose to my eyes. I pretend not to notice his breathing getting heavier. I start to admire his features. His nose, half lidded eyes and slight dimples. I stare at his lips and how they are barely parted and a little cracked.
Suddenly we hear someone clear their throat as we turn around suddenly I roll my eyes to see it's Ms. Grose standing behind us. "Um- wash up..f-for dinner." She studders looking around the room before quickly walking out. I sigh as I get up to go to the dining room.
"You coming?" I ask jerking my head smiling.
"Yeah in um- in a minute.." he says rubbing his hands on his jeans nodding his head.
I head out to the dining room and sit down. A few minutes later Miles comes in the room breathing hard like he ran a lap around the house. He sits across from me and we all start to eat. Around 10 minutes into dinner Ms. Grose speaks.
"So Miles, I packed your bag. You're ready to leave tomorrow." She says giving him a smile and me a nasty look. "What?!" Flora cries as she throws a fit in her seat.
I dart a look at Miles that says 'what the fuck is she talking about?!' He looks at me nervously, not being able to find words. I scoff as I throw my napkin onto my plate getting out of my chair walking off fast.
Miles chases me down the hall yelling, "Y/n! Y/N! Will you stop for a fucking second and listen to me?!" He shouts as he grabs my wrist turning me around.
"What the hell is wrong with you? You told me you were staying! How selfish are you?" I say angrily in his face.
"Selfish? Do you know how hard it is to be me AND take care of Flora? Plus the house?!" He yells letting go of my wrist now, pointing in the direction of the dining room.
"Flora needs a brother Miles! Not someone who runs off every other week because he can't hold a god damn responsibility!" I point in the same direction he is pointing gritting my teeth.
"It's too complicated for you to understand! You don't know what it's like Y/n!" He says yelling in my face taking a step closer to me.
"Oh yeah, because it's soo complicated to see that Flora needs love from somebody!" I say sarcastically and exaggerate. "You know what? Leave, stay, I don't give two shits! I'm not the one being affected." I shout.
"Yeah well it seems like you are." He snaps at me crossing his arms.
"Flora." I say looking him dead in the eyes. "Flora fucking loves you. But Miles you are cold." I speak quietly on the verge of tears.
"You don't even make sense-" I cut him off.
"You Miles! You are cold! Your shoulder is cold, your heart is cold, your smile is cold! You close everyone out and Flora may be too young to understand now but wait a few years and you'll see a quick change." I say with a tear running down my cheek as I walk away fast to my room slamming my door and crying into my pillow.
I hope he's upset. I hope he hates himself. I hate him.
•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°
The next day I woke up in the same outfit from last night. I was angry and didn't want to get up but I knew I had to. I dressed in shorts and a sweatshirt. I decided I didn't want to make the situation worse by ignoring Miles, so I went to his room to apologize. When I walked in I noticed he was not there and neither was his suitcase. "Fuck.." I murmured to myself knowing the things I said last night caused him to leave. As I walk around the rest of the house I realize he's gone and we don't know when he's coming back. It's only February now, I don't leave until the end of June, maybe he'll come back while I'm still here?
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Hi guys so I know it's been a lot more than 3-5 days and I apologize for that! I've had work and I jus started school up. Plus I had no ideas for this chapter so I was trying to brainstorm a lot. I hope you guys liked this chapter!!
#miles fairchild#miles fairchild x reader#the turning#finn wolfhard#fanfic#the switch#miles fairchild smut#fxchild
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All is Well That Ends Well - Lawrence Gordon x gn! afab! reader - Part IV
Annnnnnnnnd, an hour and eleven minutes later, here's part four!! the next parts will be released on the seventh and fourteenth and then, unless I can manage to get a lot of writing done in not a lot of time, there'll probably be a bit of a delay between the end of The Beginning and the beginning of The Middle (I promise better titles will be created for these sections I am just. I am just terrible at titling and pull stuff out of a hat a lot of the time) but at the latest, the Middle will start in late march-early april.
Fic type - this one is so smutty, but it's also fluffy, so it's fluff that leads up into smut
Warnings - minors,, DO NOT FUCKING INTERACT THANK YOU, oral, cockwarming, edging (kind of??) mentions of the loss of Lawrences foot + prosthetics and pain and itching associated with wearing them too long
A few days pass, and on that Wednesday, after all of your classes were cancelled from a snowstorm, you wake up at eight and make a list with Aurelie over the phone of things you need to grab, organized by room for your own convenience.
For your bedroom you need to get a nightstand, wardrobe, a lamp or two, and better sheets and blankets than the ones you’d had for a decade, which were on their last legs as it were.
For the bathrooms—of which there are two, one in the primary suite and the other across the hall from one of the other two bedrooms—you need shower curtains, bathmats, and small bins to hold random essentials like pads, tampons, Band-Aids and anything else someone might need short notice, as well as trash cans and garbage bags accordingly.
The living and dining rooms are where stuff gets pricey—you need a couch, love seat, rocking chair, coffee table, television and a stand, curtains, maybe a rug and definitely a dining table.
For one of the other two bedrooms, you require an additional bed and curtains so that it can serve as the guest space. For the other of the two bedrooms, you need curtains, bookshelves, a comfy daybed, a desk and a rolling chair so that it can act as a library-slash-office space for studying and reading.
Since you figure Lawrence is working, Aurelie helps you get most of it. A lot of it came from IKEA for the sake of your own convenience but you refused, blatantly, to buy a bed or couch or even so much as a rocking chair from there, so it was a fairly cheap trip.
You grab the bed from the same spot you got the one you’d bought for yourself six months before, when the bed you’d had got lumpy and it became clear just how old it was—a local furniture store that was a twenty minute drive out and did same-day delivery fee at no additional cost.
The rocking chair, couch, coffee table, love seat, wardrobe and daybed were purchased from a furniture store one of your bosses had recommended. It was a forty minute drive from the condo but so worth it as they delivered to your apartment for only an additional $20.
Once the furniture shopping is complete you grab groceries and are home to unload them at half past four, making quick work of it because all you want to do is lie on your couch and make a bad decision or two.
You call Lawrence, exhausted but wanting to test out the couch in more ways than just sitting on the damn thing, at five o’clock on the dot. He answers on the second ring.
“How’d furniture shopping go?” He greets.
You bite your lip to fend off a smile. “Aurelie did it with me—sorry for not calling you, I figured you were working and the places I went to for the bigger things do delivery—and now I’m just sitting, lonely. Kind of want to order take out, honestly, but Aurelie has studying to do and I’m assuming you’re still at work.”
“Just left, actually,” Lawrence says. “I can come over if you’d like? We can talk for a bit and, assuming there are groceries in your fridge today unlike yesterday, I can make dinner. Takeaway is decent but food that takes effort is good, too.”
“I didn’t come close to spending a quarter of the rainy day fund,” you say. “I told myself I’d spend five thousand at most, and I spent close to five thousand, yeah, but still. The way I see it, I have sixty dollars to blow on take out and if you really must cook me dinner, you can do so Friday night. I like things more even and unless you’d prefer that I spent the $60 on weed, I’d really like to see you.”
Lawrence laughs. “I think I’ve realized what you aim to get from me,” he says. “I thought I’d be the one making those types of calls or coming into the condo with my spare key and groping you while you read whichever book you’re reading at that point in time.”
You laugh seductively. “That’ll come up in the next few weeks, I imagine,” you say. “However, right now I am exhausted, need something in my something and this couch is way too big for one person. Grabbed an L shaped one so that I could take a nap on it on a lazier Sunday afternoon but today was not lazy or a Sunday. Today was productive and if I don’t see you in the next thirty minutes, I will drive my ass back to where I vaguely remember your house being and knock on a door, one that I can only I hope is yours so that I can make the first $2000 you’ll give me on whichever day within the next week so worth your while that it hurts.”
“You’ll get it Saturday,” Lawrence says. “The first installment.”
“Get your ass to this condo or so help me God—”
“I’ll be there in fifteen,” Lawrence laughs. “Mouthing me off is not recommended.”
“There can’t be too many punishments out there. I like it when pain gets involved. Being thrown and smacked around just gets me wet.”
“There are ways to torture you without being aggressive. Be a good puppy and wait for me, yeah?”
You roll your eyes. One sexual encounter a few days prior and he knows, already, that calling you his puppy is the quickest way to get you to submit.
“Yeah, Lawrence,” you say. “Of course.”
“Good,” he says. “You can wait fifteen minutes without touching yourself, can’t you?”
Without meaning to, you grind helplessly against the hem of your jeans.
“Mhm.”
“Good puppy.”
And then the call is done, and you’re going to your bedroom to swap your day clothes for something more comfortable—a black hoodie you’d owned since you started in the PhD program at 26 that you’d accidentally ordered around six sizes too big—and strip of everything else.
You head back into the living room, clad in nothing but a baggy hoodie. It leaves your clit, folds, and breasts open to the wintery cold updraft, which forces you to grab a throw blanket and toss it over your legs.
The ten minutes to proceed those events are spent reading a romance novel that you’d put on your coffee table for decoration, and when you hear the sound of Lawrences spare key entering the slot on the door, you grin.
He closes the door behind him lightly, grins when he meets your gaze, and you look him over.
He looks good in a way that makes you almost insatiable—navy blue button up shirt, black slacks, white doctors coat hanging loosely off his shoulders. His hair is handsomely unkempt, and he looks like the picture of laidback professionalism.
He takes the white coat off, drapes it over the top of your loveseat.
“You look cute,” he says. “Waited for me on the couch the entire time?”
You nod, standing up without thinking twice about it. “You said to wait. I did.”
He steps towards you, intentionally walking slowly. “Are you wearing anything beneath the hoodie, puppy?”
You shake your head. “I’m not. I always wear the hoodie like this—it’s comfortable for me,” it’s a lie, of course, but you just have to hope it’s not a very obvious one.
“Is it really?” He asks. When you bite your lip, he laughs.
“I don’t like liars,” he says. “If you decided to forgo anything beneath it because of me, you’re allowed to be honest. I find honesty preferable to lies, even if the way that you bite your lip and how fucking good you look makes me want to bend you over the arm of the couch and use you to my preference.”
You nod. “I wore it like this for conveniences sake,” you admit. “Was a bit warm, too, and needed to cool off, even though I regretted that almost instantly because it's the fucking winter. Figured you’d have an easier time touching me if I wore nothing underneath the sweater.”
Lawrence takes another step and is finally within arms reach.
“I’ll buy us dinner,” he says. “You can use the sixty for a nice lingerie set if you want, or maybe a few new books, but I have to get you back for thinking of how to dress in a manner that conveniences me.”
“You’re giving me four thousand dollars this month. I am not letting you buy dinner.”
“New rule, then,” he says. “Rule number four: in addition to the four thousand dollars monthly, I get to buy you dinner and gifts whenever I please.”
“You’re only doing that out of spite,” you say pointedly. “You said four thousand was the max amount you could give me while living within your means.”
“I said it was the amount I could give you, not the max amount,” Lawrence says. “Realistically I could afford close to five thousand, but I figured that spoiling you to some extent would come into play at one point or the next, so I rounded down.”
“Fine,” you nod. “I accept the rule. What’s your favorite color?”
“That’s a tie between dark blue, dark green, and maroon,” he says. “Why do you ask?”
You bite your bottom lip lightly. “While I am privy to owning a decent set to feel confident once in a while, I do want it to look so good that you can’t resist the urge to see what’s underneath. Your favorite color is the place to start in figuring that out, one would think.”
He puts one hand on your hip, a smirk kicking up the corner of his mouth. “I won’t be needed at work until nine tomorrow morning,” he says. “I’m going to make this worth it for us both, mm?”
You nod. All you want him to do is either start rubbing your clit while he kisses you, or for his fingers to be in your mouth again.
“Hows the oral fixation?”
“Still doing it’s thing,” you say, biting your lip again. “Why?”
“Be a good puppy for me and kneel, Y/N.”
You do as he says without having to think twice, becoming eye-level with his half hard cock and almost moaning as you look at it.
“What do you wanna do from where you are?” Your gaze goes to his.
Your tongue pokes out from between your lips, and suddenly thoughts of sucking him off cloud your mind entirely.
“Go on, puppy. Speak.”
“Wanna suck you off,” you whisper. “Wanna—oh my God. Lawrence please—”
“Do as you please, puppy,” he whispers. “I’m not gonna tell you no.”
You lean in, smelling him through his pants before you undo the zipper, button, and pull them and his boxers down, taking his half hard cock into your mouth within seconds.
“Good—holy fuck,” Lawrence moans. “Your mouth is amazing.”
You hum in response, tongue finding the underside of his length and setting a pace that clearly drives Lawrence a little insane. When a hand falls to your hair and he sets a pace of his own, you let him, just enjoying the feeling of his cock in your mouth.
He finishes in your mouth a few minutes later, and you swallow his cum without thinking. It makes him laugh even as he apologises for coming so suddenly, wiping what of it had dribbled to your chin after he’s helped you stand.
He presses his thumb against your bottom lip and you take it into your mouth, getting the cum off of it and grinning slightly when he thanks you for the deed.
He sits down on the long end of the couch, having pulled his boxers and his pants back up.
His gaze meets yours, and he smirks. “C’mere, puppy. Sit on my lap.”
You do as he tells you, sitting on his lap so that your thighs sit on either side of his. His hands find your hips pretty quickly, and all you want to do is kiss him, but you refrain.
“Did Aurelie offer to help, or did you ask?” Lawrence asks.
“I called,” you laugh a bit. “Defeating the hyper independence one phone call at time, I guess. Plus, she wasn’t working and told me to call her if I needed anything. My mind has been pretty fuzzy since last night, when I tried to think of everything I’d need to buy, and I called her to avoid having a breakdown. Without her helping me figure stuff out and then going with me to grab it I would’ve cried a lot more today, to say the least of it.”
“Good,” Lawrence says. “And you called me because you were alone, horny, and needing company?”
You nod. “I know our first—encounter—was the other day, but I just—”
Lawrence nods like he understands, and part of you believes that he does. “Can I kiss you, puppy?”
“Please, Lawrence.”
And then his lips are on yours, and he’s letting you press his back against the couch as your hands cup his face and sit at the bottom end of his neck, and it’s so, so easy to get lost in it.
Lawrences tongue darts out to your bottom lip while one of his hands moves from your hip to your clit, resulting in the sound of a hushed gasp befalling your lips. Lawrence uses it to his advantage, tongue finding its way into your mouth while he rubs excruciatingly slow circles around your clit.
“Lawrence,” you moan, desperately clenching around nothing in order to avoid grinding down onto him. “Oh, Lawrence. Please.”
“Not yet, puppy,” he whispers, pulling away from your lips just enough to talk. “You got a bit mouthy earlier, yeah?”
You bite your lip, nodding slightly.
“Well, I believe I made a point about there being ways to punish you that don’t involve pain?”
“Mm,” you hum. “You’re not going to be needed at work until nine tomorrow, which means—”
“Realistically, I don’t have a need to be home until around one, which means I have you until at least midnight, which is, what? Six and a half hours out?”
“Lawrence—” you whimper. “Please, sir. Please don’t make me wait that long.”
“Aw, you think using an honorific is gonna make me take mercy? Puppy, I love it when you address me as such, but you did this to yourself, yeah? You can’t tell me what to do, sweetness. I’m the one who does the ordering. Be a good puppy for the next thirty minutes and I promise, the punishment stops and the reward begins, okay?”
You clench around air again, nod and let him go back to kissing you.
He kisses you until your head is spinning, and when he pulls away, you find that it’s only been a few minutes. Your head rests on his shoulder as you catch your breath, both of his hands returning to your hips.
“Take my cock out of my boxers for me, yeah?”
“Had you kept the pants and boxers off, it would’ve been easier,” you sass before you can stop yourself.
Lawrences response is a nod, a kiss to the side of your head. “Do as I say, puppy,” he says. “Good puppies get treats, and if you don’t do as I say, you’ll just be punished until midnight, and when I leave, you’ll have gotten a free dinner but sexually? You’ll be dissatisfied for at least another few days.”
“Sorry, Lawrence.” You lift yourself off him and pull his pants and boxers down, waiting for him to do the last of the work before you sit on his lap again, hovering just over his length.
“It’s okay, puppy,” he whispers, kissing your cheekbone. “You’re allowed to stop hovering.”
“If I don’t, then you’ll—I’ll—do you want us to use condoms?”
“I got a vasectomy in October, and Plan B pills are a thing,” he says. “You said you were clear for STIs, so I’m not worried. Go on, Y/N, but only if you’re comfortable.”
You slide yourself onto him, letting yourself be split open by his length, watching the way that he reacts to it.
The way that Lawrence reacts has to be one of the most attractive things you’ve ever seen—he rests his arms on the back of the couch, and as soon as you’ve taken the tip, his head tilts back.
When you’re close to bottoming out, a long, depraved, drawn out “fuck,” falls from his gorgeous lips.
When you do bottom out, you let yourself moan, let your head fall onto Lawrences shoulder.
“Gotta stay still, puppy,” Lawrence says. “No moving, yeah?”
You whimper, biting down onto Lawrences shoulder in order to keep yourself from doing so.
“I know, Y/N. Twenty minutes until six, mm?” He laughs, one hand slipping beneath the sweater you wear. “You can’t react, either. No clenching, no moving, nothing. Biting, moaning, and whimpering are allowed, though. You’re cute when you get needy, so it seems.”
His hand finds your lower stomach and he presses down, and you have to fight every single reactive urge to do as you’ve been told. Instead, you moan lewdly, the pressure of your bite against his clothed shoulder increasing.
“Good puppy,” he praises, his voice a whisper. “Oh, you really are a good listener. You like how this feels?”
“Lawrence,” you moan desperately. “’M sorry about the bite—I’m scared I might’ve bruised.”
You kiss the area of his shoulder you’d bitten while he laughs.
“You’re just doing as I told you, yeah? The pain wasn’t bad compared to the other stuff I’ve been through.”
At that, you remember his foot, or lack thereof, and just how long he's probably been wearing his prosthesis, which just has to hurt by that point. But no, of course you'd completely forgotten about potential discomfort when horny and wanting, though it was something you had taken account for when you'd talked in not-sexually-driven situations.
“Shit!” You curse. “I’m so sorry—I just—”
“I try not to make a huge deal of it,” he says. “It’s really no concern.”
When he finds that you still look a little unsure, he laughs and presses a kiss to your lips. “It’s all right, puppy. I promise, I'm fine. Nothing hurts, aches, or itches as far as my footless leg is concerned, yeah? Just relax for me, mm?”
You nod, still feeling guilty. Lawrence presses a kiss to your forehead and the next twenty minutes are spent with him letting you thrust once or twice every few minutes, his fingers rubbing slow circles around your clit.
When six hits, Lawrence beams. “You’re allowed to move,” he says. “But don’t come yet, yeah? Wanna spread you out on this couch.”
You do as he says, setting a pace that’s just quick enough to make you teeter along the edge within minutes but not enough to come. When Lawrence has had enough, he tells you as much, telling you to get off of him and lie on your back.
You do as he tells you, watching him take off his shirt and tie like it’s a strip show. When finally his lips are on you again, he’s kissing your thighs and making his way to where you need him most.
Once there, he presses a kiss against your clit, then runs his tongue gently through your folds.
“You’re so wet,” he laughs. “You really do get turned on easily, mm?”
Your response comes as a half-laugh, half whimper, and it just eggs Lawrence on. His tongue attaches itself to your clit and you clench around pretty much nothing, one hand finding your nipple beneath the sweater while the other grips the back of the couch like it’s a lifeline.
“Lawrence,” you moan as his lips and tongue move down to your hole. You pinch your nipple between your fingers and Lawence laughs at how desperate you sound for him.
His nose presses against your clit and you grind against him, moaning lewdly. “You're using your fucking nose—ohmygod,” you moan, having a split second wherein you don’t care about how loud you’re being. “Oh, fuck, Lawrence—”
Although he’d only gotten divorced four, maybe five months beforehand, it’s clear that he knows what he’s doing—whether it’s muscle memory from the early days of his marriage or something he’d picked up in the time since his divorce, you’re glad for it.
“Lawrence—ohmyfuckinggod—” you grind against his face and he laughs, nodding slightly.
“Use me, baby,” he says, pressing a kiss to your clit. “Use my mouth, yeah? Don’t worry about anything, just focus on yourself.”
You do as he says, letting yourself set a pace while Lawrrences hands move up to your stomach.
“Fuck, Lawrence,” you moan, inches away from releasing over his face. “Lawrence—I—”
“Go ahead,” he presses his tongue flat against your clit as you grind against him and that’s basically the final straw—when he buries his face in your cunt again, you cum over his face with your thighs pressing against the sides of it, holding him in place slightly.
He stays with you through the aftershocks and comes up to kiss you once all is said and done, and once again—depraved but so fucking hot because you can taste yourself on his tongue. The kiss is intense but also everything you need to relax, and when Lawrence pulls away, you tell him there are wash cloths in the bathroom and that he’s welcome to take a shower if he sees fit, but you’re exhausted and sprawled out over the couch is the way you aim to stay.
He leaves your side and is back twenty minutes later with a damp washcloth, which he runs over your exposed cunt and then himself. He helps you get to standing and leads you to the primary suite, grabbing you a pair of sweatpants and a baggy sweater after locating them easily in your wardrobe. You wobble back to the living room while Lawrence gets dressed again, plopping into the rocking chair you’ve placed in the corner of the room.
Lawrence checks the couch for stains and both of you are surprised to find that there are none, though Lawrence cleans the area anyway before he calls and orders delivery to your apartment.
“I know we said no staying post-coitus,” you murmur. “But—you have until midnight, yeah? Stay for a while.”
Lawrence nods. “I’ll at least stay for a while after dinner,” he says. You stand, sit in the love seat. Lawrence sits down next to you, wraps an arm around your shoulders. “I do want to get to know you more—I feel like we don’t know each other as well as we should.”
You smirk. “I’m entitled to my secrets, and you are to yours.”
“Yes, that is a fair point, but part of me wants to know everything about you that’s not a secret, Y/N.”
“Don’t forget one of the first rules we made—you’re not allowed to fall in love with me.”
“I wouldn’t hate loving you in the platonic sense of the word,” Lawrence says. “That’s what I aim to do.”
You hum, press a kiss to his shoulder. “’Mkay,” you nod. “Loving me platonically is allowed, says the judge of whatever the fuck this is going to turn into.”
Lawrence laughs.
For a split second, you feel the urge to freeze the moment in time, to treasure the simple domesticity of it.
You want to stay in that pocket of time forever, Lawrences arm wrapped around your shoulders, your cheek pressed just above his chest, so blissful that nothing else in the world matters to you or him, so well hidden away from the rest of the world that nothing can find you or be bothered with looking.
You brush it off quickly—the first rule of the agreement had been that you weren’t allowed to fall in love with each other. You were not going to start falling for a man you could not have, one that would not want you in turn.
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hi! can i request akito shinonome x reader where they get into an argument? maybe it takes them a few days to make up because akito is stubborn and reader is a bit shy and overthinks like "what if he doesnt want me anymore" or whatever. oneshot please..! thank you, and have a nice day!! dont write if you dont wanna :)
oneshot - post-argument tension w/ akito
i wish i never ever told you all about it, but i just had to let you know; never meant to hurt you, tho
notes: pjsk req woohoo 🤠 i'm not sure if you wanted them to make up after the whump so ,.,,.,. we ball lmao
tags: gender-neutral reader, you're friends with ena, an, and kohane
word count: 1,987
thirteen hours and twenty-six minutes.
that’s how long you’ve gone without hearing the familiar ding! of a message from akito. it’s almost half past nine now, you note, double-checking the small alarm clock on the side table by your bed. it's been more than half a day since you’ve talked to the redheaded idiot you call a boyfriend, and you can't help but be pissed (and worried sick, but you're too angry to think about that right now. he doesn't deserve my worry, you think).
it all started late yesterday, when he was supposed to come over to your place after his afternoon dance practice – the two of you had made plans to visit a cute new bakery opening on main street. needless to say, he completely ignored your texts and calls, replying hours later with a simple “sorry, i forgot. catch up with you later.” being human, you replied with a series of passive-aggressive texts, inevitably leading to an explosive argument. you sat on the couch for what felt like hours after, kicking around the stupid cow plushie he won you at a summer fair now on the ground. how hard is it to call ahead? or keep a stupid promise?
and so, here you are, listening to music in bed and staring emptily at the ceiling. a single thought floats around in your head: what the hell’s up with akito? he’s never been the type to be dry, not even on the numerous times when he's been frustrated out of his mind with schoolwork, or fed up with family politics and his dad. the night goes by slowly, and after far too much moping, you huff and sit up against the headboard. pausing your music, you open the messages app to (wishfully) check for a text from akito, only to be met with the same “hey aki, call me when you're free” you sent hours ago. sighing, you text the one person you think would know where he is: ena.
you - 10:32
hey ena !
is aki home? he won't reply to me
minutes later, a message bubble pops up.
enanan - 10:37
umm yeah
but he looked pretty tired when he came home an hour ago
you bite your nail, a force of habit; akito’s dance practice ends at 3:20 at the very latest. what on earth has he been doing for the past six hours?
you - 10:38
oh okay ;-;
ena - 10:38
did he say something to you?
i’ll kick his ass if he did something stupid
just say the word !!
you let out a small laugh, wrapping the covers tighter around yourself. count it on ena to keep him straight.
you - 10:39
nonono i was just overthinking !
poor guy’s probably exhausted :(
ena - 10:40
probably
get some rest though !! no man’s worth losing sleep over
you - 10:40
yeahhh i probably should
you too !!
ena - 10:41
eh i’ll try
night y/n :)
you - 10:41
nighttt
unfaithful to your words, you do not get some rest. instead, you spend far more time than you should mindlessly scrolling through anything and everything you can find on your phone to distract yourself from your thoughts, somehow ending up playing through a particularly spicy story on episode at two am. looking up from the dim screen, you sigh. ena’s right - no man’s worth losing sleep over. tapping furiously through the rest of the episode, you toss your phone under the pillow next to you and shut your eyes, trying to sleep.
although you managed to get a good six hours of sleep, you find your eyes shooting awake at 8:37 am. although it's the weekend, a sunday, you've become accustomed to waking up at the ass-crack of dawn to get ready. sitting up and stretching, you quietly pad down to the bathroom to fix yourself, being rid of last night's woes.
after a small breakfast of cereal and orange juice, you make a list of everything you plan to do today; an, a member of akito’s dance group and one of your closest friends, proposed you, ena, and kohane go out for lunch at one of the numerous cafes on main street. going outside definitely sounds better than sitting at home and sulking, so you set off to the cafe an send the address to at noon.
a little bell chimes as you open the door, instantly hit by the sweet aroma of various pastries on display. you see everything, from blueberry muffins to finely decorated cakes; your wallet feels lighter at the sight of them. making your way over to a table in the secluded corner where an waves at you, signature smile plastered on your face, you sit down on the booth. next to you sits ena, and across, an and kohane.
“hey, y/n, good to see you!” says ena, followed by a small wave from kohane.
“hello hello! i haven't seen you in a while, kohane, how’s everything going?” you ask, setting your bag down next to you.
“sorry,” she replies sheepishly, “we've been so busy with practice and school, i barely get the energy to catch up!”
“aw,” you frown, once again thinking about akito, “don't tire yourself out too much.”
“ah, it's only for a little bit! once we finish nail last routine, we’ll be done with practice and ready to perform!” an laughs; kohane only sighs.
“yeah, but it's so hard…toya and akito have been cooped up at the studio for ages, now. if it’s hard for them, imagine how hard it is for me!”
“hey, don't sell yourself short, kohane! i’ve seen the way you dance, you make it look so easy!” says ena, taking a sip of the her coffee. you nod in agreement.
“trust me, whatever you're doing is working! aki’s tried teaching me some moves – let's just say it didn't end well.” the four of you chatter away giddily until a waiter brings over a fancy rack of desserts to sample, courtesy of an. there are a humble few slices of cake, and far too many small treats you don't know the name of.
“wow, an, you sure have a keen eye for desserts!” says ena, happily finishing her coffee with a cat-shaped cookie.
“of course i do, i haven't been working at a cafe for nothing!”
“oh, you!”
a little while after you all finish, you say your goodbyes to an and kohane, leaving you an ena at scramble crossing.
“so…do you wanna walk around, or go back home? i have some time to kill.” she asks, the two of you crossing the road as the cars come to a halt.
“i’m fine with walking, i don't really have anything to do at home.” you shrug, checking your watch. it’s only 2:45 and the only thing waiting for you at home is a full washing machine, so you opt to wander around the city with ena.
somewhere around the local playground, the two of you have a heart-to-heart on the far-too-small swings.
“has everything been okay with you and akito?” she asks, leaning against the chain, “i feel like something’s up. you can talk to me about it if you want.” you sigh.
“well…kind of? i think he's been ignoring me and i’m really worried. i don't think i did anything to upset him, and he’s been really exhausted lately.”
“oh, yeah, he's been coming home later too. i don't blame him, really. i guess perfectionism is a family disease.”
“definitely,” you shake your head, “i'm not angry at him at all, but i feel…hurt.” she sits up alertly.
“why? did he say something?”
“no, no, that's the problem! he missed our date the other day, but he said sorry and we fought over text. i feel so bad, but i know i’m not being irrational, and he's ghosting me! we’ve fought before, but what if this is it?” ena mumbles under her breath, something about a “stupid kid”.
“you both really are perfect for each other, you know that?” you tilt your head in confusion.
“how so?”
“you're both so hard-headed,” she laughs, “and stupid, sometimes. although that's more him than you.”
“i guess so.”
“but seriously, let me talk to him at home. maybe then he’ll get the balls to apologize and it’ll all be okay again.”
“you don't need to get tangled up in this mess, ena, don't worry-”
“oh, shut up! no man is worth lowering your standards for, that applies to him, too! maybe it’ll do you both some good, too.”
“you're the best, really.” you say, squeezing her hand.
“oh, i know.” ena flounces; you laugh, getting off the swing and brushing the sand off your lap. the walk to your house is short, or so you assure ena, but she walks back with you anyways.
“don't worry about akito, okay? i’ll handle him.” she says, walking down the steps to your house. you nod, waving at her as she leaves. deep down, the two of you know that won't be happening – worrying about akito is a part of the package, so you’ve come to realize.
you decide to spend the rest of the day lazing around on the couch, snacking on popcorn as you binge chick flicks. as you subconsciously replay the events of the past two days in the back of your mind, the guilt settles in. you sit up, checking your phone for any messages and signs of life from akito, and flinching at the sudden brightness. looking around, the state of the living room is as pathetic as you feel. there are popcorn kernels where you tried (and failed) to throw them in the small trash can, pillows strewn all over the floor, blankets folded messily, each mess driving you crazier by the minute. pausing the movie, you sigh, getting up to clean whatever you see. although you still feel like garbage mentally, seeing the room decently clean makes you feel slightly better.
before you realize it, you're yawning and no longer paying attention to mean girls playing on the laptop in bed. sitting up and stretching, you set it on the nightstand, wrap yourself up in a blanket cocoon, and begin to fall asleep.
you're woken out of your peaceful slumber by the abrupt ring of the doorbell. rubbing your eyes, you pad to the front door, opening it to see none other than-
“aki? what are you doing here, it’s the middle of the night?” he’s drenched, clearly having walked here in the ongoing downpour behind him. how cliché. you let him in, helping him feel off his jacket and fetching him a towel.
“so, are we gonna talk about the elephant in the room?” you ask, sitting down next to him on the couch. he looks down at his feet.
“yeah, we probably should.”
“speak your peace, then, i’m listening.”
“well…i’m sorry i've been an ass,” akiro sighs, “everything’s been so overwhelming lately.”
“i’m sorry, too. i shouldn’t have been so passive-aggressive, it clearly only made things worse.” he shakes his head.
“no, i get it. i was in the wrong and i lashed out at you for no reason. i missed our date, too! i’ve been really shitty to you, you don't deserve any of that.”
“i understand why it happened, aki,” you say, giving him a small smile and grasping his hand in yours, “you can talk to me when things get rough, though, you know what.”
“i know, i know, and i'm sorry.”
“no use dwelling on the past now, i guess, yeah?”
akito nods, laying down on your lap; you play with his hair absentmindedly, listening to him mumble about his week. the weight on your chest is lifted just by the sight of him opening up to you again, and you feel much better.
“hey, aki, promise me something.”
“hm?”
“don't ghost me again, or i’ll kick your ass.”
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Encantober 2023 Day 2: Siblings
Tonight was going to be the best day that the Madrigal grandkids were waiting for for several months; it was their first sibling sleepover since Mirabel’s gift ceremony! They have not had one since then because of how it has affected Mirabel, and the rest of the grandkids did not want her to feel bad. Now that the miracle has been saved and everyone has been doing better than they were before, they decided to bring it back and include Antonio with them now that he has his own room.
When the Madrigal family finished dinner, the grandkids made their way upstairs to grab their sleeping bags and go into Antonio’s room for their party. They decided to have their sleepover in Antonio's room since not only it was his first Madrigal grandkid sleepover, but also since everyone used to have their sleepovers in each of their rooms after their gift ceremony, and now that Antonio has his own room, it was time to have the sleepover in his room.
Mirabel was the first to come to Antonio’s room besides himself. All she needed was her sleeping bag and her homemade bear and change into her pajamas and that was it. A few minutes later, Camilo made his way into his younger brother’s room, changed into his pajamas with his sleeping bag and his stuffed chameleon that Mirabel made for him for his tenth birthday.. He laid his sleeping bag next to Antonio’s and sat in the semi-circle they made.
“I hope I wasn’t too late. I wasn’t able to find Cuddles so I was looking all over for him, but it turned out he fell under the bed.”
“You’re not super late. We were just setting up and making sure Parce stayed in his playhouse for the night with Pico and Chispi. Are the older ones coming soon?”
“They should be. We already know Isabela needs to do her hair before every sleepover we have.” Mirabel rolled her eyes. “I know Dolores needs her earmuffs and Luisa is trying to find Sparkle.”
Right on cue, Isabela and Dolores came into the room together. The duo put their sleeping bags next to Mirabel’s to leave one more space in the circle for Luisa. Now that the five of them are settled in their sleeping bags, cozy with their pajamas on and their plush toys, each handmade by Mirabel, and they could all begin the party. Not that long after, Luisa came into the room with her sleeping bag in one hand and Sparkle, her stuffed unicorn given to her by Alma for her gift ceremony, in the other.
“Lo siento, everybody; I couldn’t find Sparkle anywhere and I didn’t want to come without her. You all know I’ve slept with her every night since she was given to me and I can’t bother to lose her.”
“It’s okay, Luisa. Now that you found her, you can finally be here tonight!” Antonio said excitedly as he hugged his cousin.
Luisa placed her sleeping bag between Dolores and Camilo, now creating a circle of six sleeping bags with all six of the Madrigal grandkids snuggled inside them. Julieta, Pepa, and Bruno came inside with several bowls of snacks; the triplets promised they would bring the snacks upstairs when dinner was finished.
“We brought some Choclitos, Rosquillas, and Mani Motos for you,” Julieta pointed out as she put the bowls in the middle of the sleeping bag circle.
“We figured we’d buy you the snacks you used to beg us to buy every time you wanted to have a sleepover together. The same ones we begged your abuela to buy when we would have the same sleepovers,” Pepa explained.
“We bought them for you for old time’s sake,” Bruno added.
“Gracias, mami, Tia Juli, Tio Bruno,” Antonio replied.
“It’s already feeling like when we were kids all over again,” Mirabel added.
The triplets smiled and left the room together so their kids could have their fun. Camilo and Mirabel then took giant handfuls of the Choclitos and stuffed them in their mouths. Isabela rolled her eyes at her sister and cousin and attempted to hold in a laugh. One thing that has not changed is those two stuffing their faces with snacks whenever they could.
“Do you think maybe we could play a game? Did you guys used to play games at your sleepovers?” Antonio asked.
“Of course we did, Tonito. One of our favorites we used to play was Icebreaker Catch. We have a beach ball with silly questions on them and we would throw it to each other, and the person that catches it has to answer the question that their right thumb is on or closest to,” Isabela explained.
“We used to play it at the camps we used to do when we were kids, so we thought we would play again together,” Dolores said as she took out a beach ball with questions written all over it in permanent marker.
“So, let’s get started!” Mirabel said.
Dolores threw the ball to Antonio, since this was his first time playing and his first sleepover with his siblings. He turned the ball to see where his right thumb landed on, and he found his thumb closest to the question, “What is your worst nightmare?”
Antonio thought a bit before answering. They did not expect his answers to be too intense since he was still young. “My worst nightmare would be losing Mirabel. I remember when she saved the miracle and when we lost the house during that time. Papi was with me and he told me all I was saying was ‘where’s Mirabel? Where’s Mirabel?’ and he couldn’t answer. He didn’t know and it made me scared.”
Mirabel got out of her sleeping bag and gave Antonio a hug. She shed a tear and Antonio hugged her back. “Te amo, Antonio; I’m so sorry if I worried you at any point.”
“It’s okay, Mirabel. I’m just happy you’re here and alive.”
After the two youngest cousins finished hugging, Antonio grabbed the ball and threw it to Camilo. He turned the ball when he caught it and read the question his right thumb landed on, “Have you ever fallen asleep in class?”
Camilo rolled his eyes and tried to hold in a snort. “I think you know the answer to this one already; I’ve fallen asleep in class several times.”
“Well, what was the most memorable time you’ve done so?” Mirabel asked.
“Probably that one time when we were in our eighth grade history class and I came to school so sleep deprived because the night before was so busy that I genuinely couldn’t control myself that time. I guess since everyone expects me to fall asleep near the halfway mark of the period that it was shocking to everyone else in class.”
“It was shocking to me, at least. I never expected you to be asleep at the very beginning of class.”
The grandkids laughed and when they were finished, Camilo popped a Choclito in his mouth and threw the ball to Mirabel. She turned the ball to find her right thumb and read the question, “What do you use when you run out of toilet paper?”
Mirabel blushed, but answered anyway, “When I just run out of toilet paper, I tend to use the roll that comes with it. But when that’s done, I tend to use one of the towels that’s hanging on the racks.”
“You better put those in the hamper to wash after they’re finished!” Isabela yelled when Mirabel confessed.
“No, duh, I do. Do you really think I would just leave towels all over the place that I just wiped myself with? You know I’m better than that!”
“...I’ve been doing the same thing when we run out of toilet paper for years,” Camilo confessed.
Isabela groaned and laid down on her sleeping bag to recoup from the confessions. Dolores tapped on her shoulder to get up and Mirabel threw the ball to Luisa. She turned the ball and found her right thumb on the question, “Have you ever peed your pants in public?”
Luisa put the ball down slowly next to her as she answered. “I remembered there was this one time when I was in seventh grade, I was giving a presentation in my literature class, and I remember this was the first time I ever had an oral presentation in a class I also had with Gabriela. You guys knew I liked her since I started puberty, and when I was in the middle of my presentation, I felt my legs shaking and something wet in my underwear, and my teacher pulled me aside to ask me if I was aware that I peed myself. She let me go to the bathroom and finish the presentation after I cleaned myself and changed my clothes. I did feel a bit better afterwards because my nerves were let out the first time.”
Isabela and Mirabel moved to Luisa to give her a hug. They had no idea she embarrassed herself in front of Gabriela almost a decade ago, and wanted to give her the biggest hug imaginable for telling them about that.
“Hey, at least Gabriela knows that you like her and you’re both very happy together,” Isabela pointed out.
After the cool-colored sisters finished their hug, Luisa threw the ball to Isabela and she turned the ball to see what question her right thumb landed on. She found it and read the question, “Have you ever stolen something?”
Isabela thought before answering the question. “I remember this one time when Dolores and I were in high school and we were in town square with a couple of friends, and I found a pack of gum on a stand that it wasn’t supposed to be. I decided since I couldn’t find where it was supposed to be, I decided to put it in my pocket and continue window shopping with Dolores and our friends.”
Luisa, Dolores, and Mirabel giggled. “That was it? You never stole anything bigger than a pack of gum?” Luisa asked.
“I couldn’t think of any other time I stole something! You really think Senorita Perfecta would steal a car or a handbag?”
“That is true,” Camilo said. “I wouldn’t expect anything more than just a pack of gum when you were my age.”
Isabela threw the ball to Dolores, ending the first round. Dolores turned the ball to find her right thumb and read the question, “Have you ever re-gifted a gift?”
Dolores thought before answering. “I remember a couple years ago, I got this sweater from Abuela for Christmas, and while I loved it at first, when I put it on it itched so badly that I couldn’t bother to keep it anymore. So I re-gifted it that next Christmas at a party to a friend that also loved it so much and felt much more comfortable with her than with me. When Abuela noticed I wasn’t wearing it anymore, I told her the truth about how it felt on me and how I had no choice but to give it away. She was visibly upset, but from then on she asked me before she would buy clothes for me if it was comfortable first.”
“I know you thought about giving that sweater to me at first, and when I tried it on it was a little bit uncomfortable on me too, not as much as with you but still up there,” Isabela added on. “But I know Abuela appreciates you telling the truth to her.”
The grandkids continued playing more games throughout the night and eating the snacks their mothers and uncle gave to them beforehand until they each drifted to sleep one by one very late that night. Once the lights were turned off by Mirabel, the last one to fall asleep, she made her way inside her sleeping bag and took her glasses off to lay down. It was not until Antonio woke up seconds later to tap on Mirabel’s shoulder.
“Hey, Mira?”
“Yes, Antonio?”
“I just want to say this was the best sleepover ever. I hope we get to do it more often.”
“I hope so too, Tonito. I missed this and I’m sure everyone else missed it too.”
The cousin duo smiled at each other before falling asleep at the same time. All six of the Madrigal grandkids were visibly happy they got to do another sleepover again after not having one in a long time, with all of them smiling in their sleep. It was clear they wanted to do it all over again, and they would be planning the next one as soon as they woke up.
#encanto#disney#disney encanto#disney's encanto#encantober#encantober 2023#mirabel madrigal#antonio madrigal#isabela madrigal#dolores madrigal#luisa madrigal#camilo madrigal#warm colored siblings#cool colored sisters#day 2#siblings#la familia madrigal
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Road-Trip Therapy Pt. 2 (Jack Dalton x Reader)
•• Hello! This is Pt. 2 to this fic that I posted in JULY 2022. Listen, I didn't think it was gonna take this long but apparently it has. Anyway, enjoy! ••
Next thing you knew it was midnight. Most of the nearby restaurants had closed by then, and Jack didn't want fast food.
“Hey, use that fancy phone of yours and look up the nearest 24-hour diner.”
“Why can't you use yours?” You questioned, doing what he asked anyway. “Mac use it for something again?”
“No,” He stated, walking out of the bathroom. “But it's a wonder he didn't.”
“The nearest diner is about twenty minutes away.”
“Alright! Let's get some grub!”
You hadn't expected much of a crowd at this hour but when you got there there were only a few booths available. Most of the other patrons looked to be truck drivers or some of the local youth who didn't have anywhere else to hang out. The waitress was nice and sat you both in a corner booth by the jukebox. Jack ordered your drinks before going over and looking at the different song options.
“You want to pick out your dinner?” You joked, flipping the menu. “Or should I just go with your usual?” Jack dug some change out of his pocket stuck it in the machine and picked a song. He had a shit-eating grin as he came back to the table and picked up the other menu.
“Naw, I got it.” The speakers clicked before ultimately starting to play the song he'd picked. You rolled your eyes. Metallica. Of course.
“Who played Metallica!” You heard the cook yell from the kitchen. “Whoever you are, I love you!”
“Love you too, Man!” Jack yelled back with a laugh.
“Okay! Are you two ready to order?” The waitress came back over. As Jack ordered a double cheeseburger and fries, you couldn't help but notice that the waitress had undone a few buttons on her shirt. You ordered a bowl of Mac and Cheese, watching her leave before looking back to Jack, who was already in protective boyfriend mode.
“(Y/n)...”
“The nerve!” You hissed. “Right in front of me!”
“It doesn't mean anything, (y/n).” You leaned back in your seat, taking a deep breath.
“I know that.” You kicked him lightly from under the table. “It's still fucking rude.” He nodded with a smirk.
“Yeah, it is.” You leaned back and Jack thrummed his fingers on the table to the beat. Fifteen minutes later you both had your food and were digging in. It was good! Like, really good! You'd have to hit this place on the way back to California.
You both ate your food and went back to the hotel. Now with full bellies, it was even easier to fall back asleep. Your back pressed against Jack’s body and his arm draped over your stomach. Every so often he ran his hand across your skin, making you giggle. You woke to his teeth nipping at the back of your neck.
“Jack….”
“Come on, Baby, let's have a little fun before we leave.”
“Don't we still have to stop for gas?”
“Still got plenty of time for kissing.” He cooed into your ear before biting the lobe. “And biting.” You bit your lip. Damn this man. You turned as he let go, planting a kiss on his chin before making your way down his chest.
“You're due for a shave.” You mumbled, nuzzling your face between his breasts. “It's like a jungle.”
“Oh, hardy har har.” He smiled, curling his legs around you and pulling you closer. “Maybe that waitress at the diner would like my chest hair.” You laughed.
“I'm sure she'd like your wallet more.”
“Hey, ya gotta tip your waitresses.”
“Not when she wants to get in your pants.” You counter, smirking. You knew it wasn't Jack’s fault he was so good-looking. You couldn't blame the ladies for trying, either. That had been you once.
“Ah come on, you know I only got eyes for you.”
“Mmhmm.”
After another six-hour car ride, you both finally made it to Yellowstone. You found out getting a memorial bench was a little pricey, but you didn't hesitate to start filling out the paperwork with Jack. It was like wrangling a bear to have Jack let you pay for it.
“Whoa! Look at that one!” You turned from where you were looking at some idiot tourists walking a little too close to the edge of a cliff side to where Jack was pointing. “That boy’s huge!” Jack had a smile ear to ear. “I gotta get a picture of that to show Boozer! He thinks his neighbor's Great Dane’s the biggest thing out there!” Jack laughed. You leaned against him as he zoomed in on the huge Buffalo. Something came out from behind it.
“A calf!” You squealed. “It's adorable!”
“Wolf chow.” You gasp, jabbing Jack in the gut.
“Don't say that!”
“Hey, nature’s a relentless mother.” You both watched the calf run around. Jack put his arm around you.
“Thanks for the idea, (y/n).”
“I didn't do anything, Jack.”
“You brought up Wolves.” You blinked. When had you…
“When we were in Russia?”
“Yeah.”
“That was six months ago.” You looked up at him, catching his eye under his aviator sunglasses. “You've been sitting on this idea for six months?” He shrugged.
“It's nothing.” You sighed.
“Whatever you say.” You wrapped an arm around him too. “They say your Dad’s bench will be done by next Spring.”
“What are ya sayin’? Ya wanna come back?” You shrugged.
“Why not? It was a nice road trip.” Jack nodded.
“Yeah, it was.”
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Judgment by Fallen Angel / Chapter 6 - The Agony of a Doctor
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Miyaji: " 'At that time, there was a territorial war between the Southern Land and the Eastern Land…'
'The doctor was on the battlefield as a military doctor.' "
……..
[Southern Land, Field Hospital]
Soldier: "Ugh… it hurts…"
Old military doctor: "This guy is a goner... Next!"
Miyaji: "Wait a minute.
If we do something, there's still a chance for him to survive."
Old military doctor: "Even if he survives, he won't be able to return as a soldier!
Just leave him alone!"
Miyaji: "I refuse.
As a doctor, I can't leave a life that can still be saved."
Old military doctor: "Tch… You're as rebellious as ever.
Suit yourself! But I'll report any violation of orders to our superiors."
Miyaji: "It's all right now. I will treat you."
Soldier: "Ugh...i-it hurts, so painful…
…Please… just end it…"
Miyaji: "Stay strong. You can still live.
What do you want to do when your wounds heal? Think about it...
Soldier: "Ugh... I want to go home.
I want to… return… to my hometown…"
Miyaji: "That's right. Never give up hope.
I will save you, I promise.
Truth to be told, even that doctor thought there was only a small chance to save his life,…. But the patient's 'desire to live' won out.
He survived…
Six months later, he was able to return safely to his hometown.
The following year, he sent a letter of thanks to the doctor.
He wrote: 'I returned home, married my sweetheart… and I have a son.'
'All this is thanks to you. I'm so happy to be alive.' "
Berrien: "Wonderful…!
What a beautiful story.
No matter how hard things get... If we live, there will be good things.
We must protect this precious happiness. Isn't that right, Mr. Miyaji?"
Miyaji: "Yeah… That's right.
…If only the story had ended here...
I could honestly agree with you."
Berrien: "What? 'If only the story had ended here?' "
> "What do you mean?"
Fennesz: "Sorry, but… Are you saying there's more to this story...?"
Lato: "Ooh… I'd love to hear about it. Prof. Miyaji."
Miyaji: "Umm... Okay.
After that… It was about a few decades later.
At that time, the doctor had moved to the Central Land due to business reasons...
He passed by the hometown of the man he had saved.
So he decided to visit his house…"
Trudge… trudge…
[Southern Land, Desert Village]
Miyaji: "According to the letter, I think this is the address....
I don't see any sign of anyone inside the house... Should I knock on the door?
But… If I met him face to face,
I might surprise him with the fact that my appearance hasn't changed.
I wonder what his life has been like since then... I'm fine with watching from afar though....
Hmm...?
There is an old man over there…
He is sitting down… looks like he's praying.
Maybe that's his neighbor. Let's talk to him for a bit…"
Miyaji: "Um, excuse me…"
Old soldier: "Hmm...? Who is it...?"
Miyaji: "........! You are…"
(I'm sure... it's him.... I see... He's already this old…)
Old soldier: "Huh...? Who was it?
Sorry but my sight and hearing have worsened recently…
Excuse me, but do I know you?"
Miyaji: "...No, I'm just a traveler passing by.
Um… Is this the right road to the big city in the west?"
Old soldier: "Yes, that's correct.
But it's still a long way to the city…
I'm a lone old man, I can't do anything to help...
You can fetch water from the well if you like."
Miyaji: "Alone...? Well, sorry for asking... but what about your family?"
Old soldier: "Ah... them.
They've been sleeping under here for decades…"
Miyaji: "......!
There are… two graves…"
Old soldier: "Yeah.
My wife and son...
My son was sent off for war when he was young...
Unlike me, he never came home.
A few years later, my grieving wife… followed in his footsteps…
Why do I have to go through this?
If I knew I'd suffer like this…
At that time, in that war… I was better off dead."
Miyaji: "......!"
Old soldier: "Oops–
I ended up confiding in you. Sorry…"
Miyaji: "No...
Likewise, I deeply apologize...."
Old soldier: "...Hm? Did you say something?"
Miyaji: " 'The doctor thought he had saved a life and gave him hope for the future…'
'But… in reality…'
'He only gave the patient an even longer painful despair…'
'Humanity has always been at war with itself… And shows no sign of stopping…'
'Is there really any value… in protecting humanity that keeps repeating tragedies after tragedies…'
Berrien: "M-Mr. Miyaji...?"
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